Ode to the Garden Pavilion

Somber hours drift in and out with melancholy grimness.

Time abounds with nothing to fill it,

just time to stare and contemplate blank walls

as the stillness runs shivers down the spine,

and the cold window pane draws you near-

escape within sight and out of reach.

Hearing the clock tick with every passing second creates a new routine.

Always watched, always followed,

trailed by a cold pale light,

searching in the dark for answers

and, for some, finding.