The baron built his house of stone
With walls too wide for tears
But I ran off through brush & bone
And walked for seven years

I crossed the creek, I climbed the moor
Where foxes howl & hide
And found a gate of briar & spore
Where dead folk tend & bide

The dead keep a garden, love
Beneath the willow’s moan
They’ll give you roots instead of wings
And plant you soft in stone

Their orchard bloomed in moonlit gray
With roses red as sin
They never spoke, just turned away
And hummed the songs within

But one did rise with vine in hair
His smile both kind & cold
He said, “This soil is rich and fair
It holds what love can’t hold”

He took my hand, he touched my face
He showed me where she lay
The girl he loved in time’s embrace
Now bloomed in shadowed clay

I thought of veils & silver bands
Of vows I did not make
And pressed a thorn into my hand
To feel my old heart break

The dead keep a garden, love
Where roses drink your rain
They’ll call you sweet, they’ll call you kin
And you won’t leave again