Evelyn Klebert

I wander through gardens,
through mazes in the shadows,
thorns prick at my skin
scraping and tearing.
I wander through places of overgrown tangles.
And see glimpses  and catch fragments of other lives
and other paths.
I wander through gardens
and only catch a brief semblance
of others lives, hopes,
and pains that wrap around like wild vines.
Of course I couldn’t hope to know and really understand
but in the passing of an instance
I feel its semblance,
and think I hear another heartbeat
as they wind round their own
path,
and footsteps wrap round their own
wild vines.

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