I Am a Secret Garden

Childish laughter, a hollow echo
resound from walls of hiding stone,
Rest softly on blue-budding aster
which flourish from my earthy veins,
then silenced on Queen Ann's lacey lips.
I lie on Earth in bitter need.
At my center grows an oak
whose leaves reflect a golden light.
Strong branches reaching skyward,
rest firmly on the empty air.
Acorns, bursting from its branches,
like salty tears which fall with care
and swell within my earthen heart,
a bitter-sweet symphonic sound.

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