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Saturday, May 5, 2007

What's hidden in that secret garden?







What's hidden in that secret garden?
A question I always ask,
A fish pond, a gazebo
The find of that secret path.

What's really hidden in that secret garden?
A curiosity that always takes me back,
A zigzag bridge, the broken twigs,
The discovery of that cozy shack.

What's truly hidden in that secret garden?
It really makes me wonder,
The thick green grass, the insects buzz,
The unearthing of a new flower.

The garden is surely full of secrets,
I'll try my best not to shout,
Though I know when the stench of the rubbish fly about,
Then, the whole secret will be out!

wiz


There's this beautiful quaint little park around my place and I go there everyday. It's the best place to hang out with my son while waiting for his big sister to arrive from school. We are priviledged to always have the whole place to ourselves since we normally make our entrance around 3.50, still too early for joggers and children to play under that sweltering heat. The park is equipped with jogging tracks, a playground, a feng shui fish pond, a zigzag bridge, and beautiful flowery srubs. Every corner you set your eyes on, you would be enthralled by its simplicity and its beauty. But what saddens me is the irresponsible acts of its patrons dumping and throwing rubbish practically everywhere. No, the colourful plastic wrappers do not add to the beauty of the garden, it definitely spoils the overall natural ambience.

So, between 3.50 to 4.15 everyday, yours truly and son would be spotted around this garden picking up as much rubbish as we possibly could and disposing them appropriately. If you happen to see a crossed looking lady with her chattering son, do stop us and say hi. Maybe you can help us maintain the cleanliness of our park. Thank you.

2 treats:

Salina said...

Dear Wiz,

Cruel! Cruel! Cruel! You make me miss home so much now when i saw all the pictures of the secret garden in our residential area. Love your poem though. Why am i not inspired to write a poem though my french window now is facing a luscious green park with squirrels hopping from one branch to another and the magpies nesting on top of the trees! Blame it on the assignments!

Love
Salina

Wiz said...

By the french window I sat,
breathing in the crisp air,
mounting work load I forget,
into the clouds I stare.

The morning mist on my face,
loving its gentle touch,
the warm sunlight I grace,
by the french window, I love so much.

Now, you continue...