Garden, Robert Street

The world kept spinning, kept singing,
though in the garden, time immediate
seemed to stand still.
I held my breath —
flower-scented, earth-warm —
stood beneath a sky washed pale
with evening’s light.

My eyes travelled the length of each leaf
lighting soft as baby’s breath on petals,
travelling pallets of multicolour hues.
In this secret garden
I drank in the peace,
sweet as flower nectar,
while the world fell away.

A small bird settled atop the fence;
motionless, we watched each other
both imagining ourselves invisible
and eternity passed between us.
His tiny black eyes stared unflinching
but when finally I blinked,
I found he had gone.

4 thoughts on “Garden, Robert Street

  1. Those beautiful, peaceful moments that keep us going in the spinning world. Like waking up to your poetry this Sunday morning. 🙂

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