Sylvatica

In the center of the abandoned garden stands an old stone statue of an imperial. It's crumbling off in various places, with clouds of little blue flowers poking their heads out of the cracks and staring curiously with round yellow eyes. Lichens and mosses carpet its body in green, dotted with millions of microscopic petals. Despite this, its face is still regal and stoic, watching over this little sandbox of life.

The rest of the flora has gone wild too, though it's retained its beauty. Cherry saplings, unpruned, dot the landscape and shower the tall grass in pale pink. The nearby stream has breached the now-toppled hedge of stones and bubbles cheerfully across the ground, polishing the soft corners of the stones.

One would wonder who would've left such a place in the hands of nature and time. In the midst of all this, the statue stands as it has for years.

Does it ever feel lonely?