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WILD

At the foot of my garden,
Where nobody  goes
There are foxgloves and brambles,
And a pink rambling rose.

There are nettles so tall,
They strive for the sky,
Ivies and grasses,
Sprawling near by.

Buttercups and daisies,
A scattering of clover,
Mosses and meadow sweet,
Trying to take over.

Willow herb, lady’s mantle,
A riot of greens,
Sweet smelling honeysuckle,
A desire to be seen.

Their aim is survival,
So they turn to the sun,
Or seek the damp shade,
Where deep shadows run.

They fight for the light,
And for freedom to roam,
To find their own space,
A place to call home.

Next door is a garden,
So different from mine,
Neat rows of dahlias,
In a straight line.

Fixed to the spot,
No freedom to move,
To find their own joy,
In a place that they love.

A chance to explore,
And play like a child,
To follow our dreams,
And live free and wild.

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