I’m sitting on a bench in the forgotten garden,
nestled in the center of a city.
Thousands of people rush past,
as trees, shrubs, and birds go unseen.
No longer noticing the fragrance
from the blooming flowers.
I found my way in,
closed my eyes,
attempted to erase the overgrowth that
swallowed the garden whole.
Bushes twice their size,
blocking the gate,
acting like bush guards,
controlling entrance to only those
willing to pay its toll.
Struggling flowers,
hidden in the shade,
fight to reach sunlight.
The sound of traffic
attempts to steal my attention
from the hidden beauty I see.
I’m enjoying the sweet beauty of the gardenias
as fumes try to invade
but fail at their attempt to overwhelm
Flowers have disappeared from beds
Weeds pushed their way through.
Years of overgrowth fill my mind.
I envision a weed free bed,
a rainbow of flowers standing tall,
peeking up at the sun.
I see a path with –
couples holding hands,
strolling,
laughing,
and noticing the scent of the flowers.
Trees create a canopy of shade,
branches stretch wide,
longing for the lost days of picnics
beneath its branches
I envision loved ones turning their faces up to the rays of sunshine peeking through the trees.
I move to the bed in front of me.
Kneel down in the damp grass
and begin to remove weeds that took over,
turning a garden into a jungle.
Weeds wet from the dew,
long ago declared squatter’s rights,
now face the harsh reality of eviction.
I return for weeks and work on one spot at a time.
Lizards peek through the leaves,
curious, but remain hidden,
birds chirp in a steady conversation
as they feed their growing chicks.
People feel the excitement
They join to rescue the land
neglect is becoming a memory
we watch it return to its full glory.
One day, I see them –
a couple holding hands,
the swinging basket
telling a new story.
I close my eyes and smile.
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