Secret Gardens
what doesn't stand out
is the idea of perfect
wants I can't measure
add up to worth questioned
if my good allows enough in
in to a secret garden
blooming different every hour
you take a look around
what stands out greatly
seen behind patterned walls
stained glass created once
written on each shard invisibly
narration opposes inner voice
worth full of priceless sun
gate opens swiftly walk in
stand centered by roots edge
lovely pockets filled and hollow
faced with golden heaviness
lightness comes over silent air
heat wooshes by fresh laundry
a hint of tea in her mug
dab of sweet perfume on her wrists
twirls around lace and Polaroids
try planting all she carries
secrets cost good enoughs weight
begins to empty both pockets
while she stood and tears up
hopes interrupt locked irons
empty ground litters worn paper
with key to hold imperfection
walking out knowing she'd be back
Becca Joy
