Within the garden, lilies slowly creep.
Along the edges of that darkened grove,
The flowers bloom and roots in the dirt sleep.

The moss-encrusted well is cool and deep,
Surrounded by green shoots of growing clove;
Yet stubborn, greedy lilies calmly creep.

The angle of the wall is far too steep
And sunlight never sees the well’s great trove-
Still, something at the bottom sinks to sleep.

The willow tree may never cease to weep,
As sickness in the water spread and drove
Away the plants – still lilies, choking, creep.

A flower-bed might many secrets keep,
And flowers always grow around a grave.
Silently they bloom, above the sleep.

The soil is piled in far too fresh a heap
As seething wind sets willow leaves a-wave,
And over ivory bone the lilies creep.
The flowers bloom and ribs in the dirt sleep.

Ella Stanborough is a sophomore majoring in Animation at SVA. Ella says, “Despite my choice to work visually, I still love to write, and my poetry is a much-loved escape from life into both storytelling and self-expression.”