My Secret Garden

It's my place to escape -
escape from my thundering troubles.
The breeze calms my nreves,
is pleasing to my eyes.

The grass has never been cut.
butterflies fly high over my face.
The bird's next has never been invaded.
Baby buttercups sway with grace

Ladybirds creep over my skin,
while I lie there dreaming.
I don't want to go now.
My dream hasn't ended.

I'll stay for another few hours
letting my hair wisp in the air,
skimming stones through the pond,
watching the ripples in the water.

by Suzannah