Cunning threshold
Where green inks
Chiselled stone,
Where whimsey
Herself is enthroned,
Her maidens inches from each path
In imprints of each grown child’s laugh,
A secret garden we may never know
And so, we seek the inner world it fed;
Fertile forests where thoughts are sown
Into primordial seedbeds.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
with continuing thanks to Sue Vincent for yet another inspiring #writephoto prompt.
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Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 
The last three lines really got me 🙂
🙂 thanks, Sue, the whole poem’s really about those last lines. Good #writephoto prompt again, btw! Much appreciated.
thanks, Antonia 🙂
I like what you did here. It makes you think.
Thank you Michele ☺️