There is a secret garden
where I’m the warden
and everything shines
made to fit in rhymes

good morning
the sun is out
at the end of an August drought
I could see a new plant sprout

everyday I would take care of it
promising to never quit

one day a flower appeared
but she was weird
like she wouldn’t fit
lost in a place where her hues
were my main muse
too beautiful to be normal

then I realize
sun’s light had became dim
because, by now, that flower
was the one bringing light to the garden.