I AM A GARDEN

I AM A GARDEN

 

I am a garden, a flower garden, at least that’s what I call myself.  Real gardens look at me with disdain, even pity. “You’re not a garden, you are just a bunch of wild flowers, grown from seed thrown willy nilly by some child years ago.  Hmmph.  That’s what you are and what you will remain”.

 

My feelings are not hurt by these remarks – in fact I smile and all my flowers smile and bob their heads in the sun.  We are a wild and carefree patch of space, a group of diverse and beautiful blossoms.  Being wild, my blooms are not limited to one brief time of explosion, but diverse, one following the other in a wild array of colour and substance that glows in the sunshine.

 

I shall live on as long as there is rain and sun to sustain my life. My flowers will turn up their faces to greet the elements and bend in submission when the forces are great, only to spring back again to bob their heads in joy when all is calm.

 

 

 

Kathleen,

Feb.26, 2008