My Heart is a Secret Garden
I wandered past the overgrown gate,
Where the moss meets the ivy and whispers wait.
Past the rusted latch and the crumbling stone,
To a quiet corner I call my own.
Here the roses bloom in a velvet hush,
Painted in shades of twilight and blush.
Sunlight filters through emerald trees,
Releasing the scent of the evening breeze.
I knelt by the fountain, so still and deep,
Where the secrets of long-lost summers sleep.
And there in the silence, beneath the vine,
I unearthed a treasure that once was mine.
It wasn’t of silver, it wasn’t of gold,
But a beating warmth that the shadows hold.
A fragile pulse that the world had grown,
But here in the garden, my heart is my own.
Tucked away where the wild things grow,
Free from the rushing of all below.
I found my center, I found my start,
And bloomed once more in the secret heart.
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