For thousands of years I have lived here with my husband,
For a thousand more we shall live here still.
He is the ruler of the dead,
And I am the ruler of the flowers in the hills.
Though I have not walked the hills for thousands of years,
I roam these dark garden stonewalls,
waiting and hoping for some sort of light to fall.
Alas, no light shall creep through to this dark world,
No light shall ever make my flowers grow.
Instead of light, magic makes them grow,
They grow to the end of the river of styx,
they grow around each and every river bend.
This garden of mine is divine,
This garden basks in the darkness of the underworld,
and will do so till the end of time.