Open the rusted gate, and view the overgrown.
Come for a walk, but watch the mud.
Here you will see the forgotten garden.

Here,
The sun never takes of his grey suit.
The lawn grows taller than the withered flowers.
The trees poisonous roots grow into the heart.

No room for chirping birds and hungry ducks.

Though you found the lost gate.
And when you enter,
the forgotten feels remembered.
With your shining eyes, the sun remembers to change.
The flowers blossom to new heights to view the talked about pretty face which stands near.
The roots grow clean and new with the touch of your gentle hands.

There is room for the birds and the ducks now.
But there is more room for you,
as I saved a seat for the day the gardener of my blossoming soul would arrive.
And I ask you to stay and look after it.