His mind and hands were working over-time,
Seems that the Devil was their employee,
And My Dear God, didn’t he work hard,
Teamwork, conveyer belt, nightshift, backshift,
The occasional well arranged party broke the one-to-one monotony…..
He came knocking fresh from Paris, he was only meant to stop a few nights,
But no, his robes and the Good Book meant he gained the peace keeping tenancy,
The accidental gardener promoted to scholar and executioner,
Turns out, this was no accident, nor ever serendipity.
This gifted green-fingered, green-eyed monster had a history,
The old order: politicians and diplomats were in his social circle,
Along with the rest of the Clergy ….
Those nights, those long nights – they will always stay with me,
I still keep the photographs, just to remember, just how things used to be,
Pink dress flowing, party dress ripped, marred by the scars on my knees...
And the scars on my ….
Well, when he tended those flowers, he used his grimmest reaper
I was always torn by thorns, the nettles stung, and thistles burnt when they took a bite out of me….
The 1980’s - Do you remember? Those were our years,
The decade before had been lost in a grateful fog
No longer the lodger, the reverent gardener, you were now the owner of this property,
Your gleaming greenhouse nestled in a five land acre, taking my body, heart and soul which no longer belonged to me....
*To the Sacred Holy Man with a whore's kiss*
~kiss~
Asia
