There is a silence within a garden
A patience in those growing things
A gentle waiting, a caring pardon
For the pain we tend to bring

No words are spoken by the plants
As they unfurl from the earth
They do not need to, nor understand
The reason for their birth

A garden knows what has come to pass
What we have done, for what we yearn
It grows slow, but has one thing of us to ask
Some water, and a little patience in return