My Garden

My garden is bare

My garden of potential

Where did you go to?

Did you fly away with my butterflies

My precious butterflies, who merely sought a quiet place to rest

Or did you crawl away with my caterpillars

My dear sweet caterpillars, who only longed for the seclusion of my grass

Maybe you were blown away with my tulip petals

Oh my gracious petals, who desired but a sanction for love

My garden, my love

You are now so barren

For without my ants, what has become of purpose?

Without my flowers, what has become of growth?

And without my evergreens

Oh my brave evergreens, what has become of the past?

Only rain visits my garden now

Oh bitter sweet rain – tell me

Are you droplets from the heavens or you are tears of my soul?

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Photo: Marvelling the perfect etchings of a leaf in Byron Bay, NSW

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