The Secret Garden

Behind the old brick wall, so gray, Where ivy climbed in disarray, Lived secrets whispered on the breeze, Amongst the rustling, leafy trees.

Emily, with eyes so keen, Found a hidden door, unseen, A tiny latch, a dusty key, "What wonders wait," thought she!

A creaking hinge, a grassy path, A robin chirped, then took a bath In a puddle, clear and bright, Leading Emily into the light.

The Secret Garden, there it lay, Where tangled weeds held wicked sway. But Robin knew a magic song, To wake the flowers, slumbering long.

Emily, with tiny spade, Pulled weeds and gently, bravely, made Space for blossoms, red and blue, While Robin sang, "They're waking through!"

The flowers stretched, in sleepy bliss, Unfurling petals for a kiss Of sunshine, warm upon their face, A joyful bloom in that hidden place.

And as the days began to turn, The garden glowed, a vibrant burn Of colours bold, a fragrant scent, A happy, glorious testament!

The secret bloomed for all to see, No longer hidden, wild, and free, But bright and bold, a shining star, Right behind that old brick wall, so far!