The Secret Garden

I know of a garden, you might know one too,

It hides a big secret, as all gardens do.

There's magic in this place, and wonders to be found.

Creatures pass through it, with barely a sound.

They don't say too much, they're busy you see,

They're not in the garden to entertain me.

To each flower they fly, in a blinding zoom,

They're making sure, each plant will bloom.

Some inch along, wearing fabulous fur,

They must eat a lot, so transformation can occur.

Others lay out traps, and then run to hide,

Only when it rains can you see the gems inside.

At the end of every day there shines a special light,

Made of all different colours, so beautiful and bright.

That's the secret of a garden, tell others if you dare,

Understand that if you do, they will want to join you there.

The Personalities Of Pink

Sometimes pink arrives with trumpets.

Deep and throaty,

they shout out from

the back of the garden.

Their personality is unmistakeable;

tall and stately,

they command my attention.

Sometimes pink arrives with a twinkle,

with a momentary flash

that catches my eye,

as if a fairy has suddenly fluttered by.

Did I really see it?

Or, was it just my imagination?

Sometimes pink plays tricks on me.

It hides behind things,

choosing objects that are transparent,

invisible, 

then takes on their form,

like this spider's web.

Sometimes pink has a job to do.

It colours the petals

that create this fortress,

to hide, from potential thieves,

a fortune of

sun-infused jewels.

Sometimes pink attracts things

that like sweetness,

like bees and wasps

and flies

...and

me!

And sometimes pink arrives

without a sound.

I notice the garden is quiet,

serene, peaceful

and calm.

That's how I know

pink has

arrived.