I still can't bring myself to open the gate. my own secret garden, hidden from the world. with more than one gardener the weeding would be easier, but a good gardener is hard to come by. so I keep my gate closed with a sign saying no trespassing. no one dares move that creaky gate. little do outsiders know how deeply the flowers yearn for someone else's fingers to stroke them. no one will hear the cries let out by the forget-me-nots as they are easily forgotten. no one will know the beauty behind the walls of my garden.