The detritus of my hearts affair with Love; now thrice denied.
It's midnight says the grandfathered clock we lay to rest...
In the garden where my Love once lay her head upon my chest.
The bells they toll, the chimes still ring...
Become this gardens own heart-beat.
It's midnight and I dare not sleep...
For what this garden holds is Me.
It's midnight in the garden
Of what will never be.