Beyond The Veil

Wilted flowers in a vase beyond the veil.
In a centerpiece on table tell a tale.
Of a bygone time which is shadowed now.
By dust and cobwebs but enchanted somehow.

In a mansion long neglected and torn down.
They used to thrive and from live ground.
The ground was discarded for not needed.
Useful for when the flowers were seeded.

Hand-picked flowers that seem now bereft.
Were placed by a gentle hand that was deft.
Gathered by a young maiden on a hillside.
That adorned her table like a sign of pride.

A trophy to her she did imagined it to be.
That she once shared with her whole family.
Traces of her are no where to be found.
Like the discarded mansion and the ground.

But her memory lives on a shadowed hill.
The land remembers when she picked still.
It was there long before her or her tale.
It smiles hidden there beyond the veil.