A secret garden I call my own
Where I sow the seeds of memory
With flowerbeds never empty
And trimmed bushes of Evergreen
A pond of water lilies cradled within
Above which Venus hovers serene
A secret garden I call my own
Which hides away the disarray
Of stinging nettles and ailing shrubs
That threaten the mirage of love within
They lie beyond the stoic façade
Of solemn hedges of Evergreen
A secret garden I call my own
That heeds the tempest summoned on me
To create a ripple of damage unjust
That one could see if more than glance
Of fallen petals and naked twigs
And burning shrubs that lie within
A secret garden I call my own
In June again the roses bloom
To mask the twisted growth beneath
And Venus grey and over-grieved
In praise again the deed is done
A seed is sown, a worthy one