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Sunken Garden

On Summer afternoons, from two to four,
The sunshine's probing fingers gently trace
A passage 'twixt the city roofs to pour
In fullness on a basement dwelling place.
Here, tended by the occupant within,
A little garden manages to grow.
Each corner for a pot or earth-filled tin
Is utilised; and from these efforts flow
Such unexpected Summer flowers that we
Who pass, heads bent and lost in thought, for this
Brief moment waken from our dreams to see
A world made brighter by such loveliness.
A little garden? No! My heart denies
That such a paradise be judged by size.

User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 8 votes ) 12

Comments (12)

BONJOUR MARY OUI je me souviens de ce petit jardin.DE ces qq jours passés à londres, et également chez ta maman; il y a si longtemps.ORLEANS devrait te rappeler des souvenirs.bises annie.
Great poem. So much said with so little words.
As said, no matter the size, what lies therein matters. Lovely poem.
beautifully penned! superb! 10+
Hi Mary, you have brought us closer to paradise.Yes, the sunken garden that we'd overlook, comes to live now.
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