I remember the garden,
how the air smelled of rain and secrets.
The petals glowed under a restless night,
and the sky draped itself in deep blue,
a quiet hymn only the stars could hear.
It was a lovely kind of silence,
almost alien in its stillness,
as if the world had paused
for the sake of one fleeting romance
between shadow and light
My garden is my happy place. I miss it in the winter when it is too cold to sit out for long. However, this year I have hardly been in it due to neighbours making life harder than it needs to be.