Everybody’s got a secret garden.
It lingers deep inside.

Between the heart,
and those yet to be worthy,
Are where the gates reside.

When the worthy come forth
And meander through the leaves,

Those beyond the gates of truth
Are found to have been deceived.

What is seen from the outer shell
Is often not within,
And that percieved as happy and free
Are often portraits of torment and sin.

And when the flowers bloom
Amongst those who do not belong,
The gate to the heart closes.

And we are left to ask ourselves…

Is our garden filled with daisies and daffodils?
Or Poppies and Roses.

-Nessie Roswell