the secret garden
theres a place i go
where wildflowers bloom
its vast and wide
ever expansive
it takes my breath away
as i inhale
the scent of petals and greenery
the morning dew on the flowers
rustles in the wind
dripping onto the moist grass
and the secret garden awakens
i follow the path to the looking tree
and sit beneath his branches
looking once again
for reality
that sneaky little thing
i look up
observing
the branches and the leaves
and i wonder how long
the looking tree
has been looking for me
the tree branches sway
waving good morning
as i wave back
the secret garden is mine alone
well me and the tree
and the grass
and the flowers
but mostly me
i take off my shoes
grounding myself
with the earth
that rests beneath my feet
i walk out from the looking tree
and see the sun
peering above the horizon
shining its beams upon my face
and i smile
the secret garden is not secret
in being
unknown to others
but rather
i tell him my secrets
every single
fear
tear
happy thought
or not
the looking tree sees me
and knows who i am
he recognizes me
by my secrets
and when the wind dies down
the grass dries
and the sun glares above
i take to the looking tree
to see what he thinks of me
in a
not so secret garden
