[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]When the gardener has gone this garden
Looks wistful and seems waiting an event.
It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden
And even more so since the gardener went,
Quietly godlike, but of course, he had
Not made me promise anything and I
Had no one tempting me to make the bad
Yet I still felt lost and wonder why.
Even the beech tree from next door which shares
Its shadow with me, seemed a kind of threat.
Everything was too neat, and someone cares
In the wrong way.
I need not have stood long
Mocked by the smell of a mown lawn, and yet
Sickness for Eden was so strong.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”632″ img_size=”medium” add_caption=”yes”][/vc_column][/vc_row]