Hidden Depths © 08 Barry Gardner

Some friends of mine were going so I said that I’d go too
though I must admit I wasn’t very keen
It was their company I favoured really

“See the Hidden Gardens,” the poster had said
But why bother? There were plenty around anyway
without going exploring the unknown for them
As it happened I had been wondering where my next poem
was coming from and was desperately seeking inspiration
One thing seemed certain though – it wouldn’t be on horticulture
As with relatives you can’t choose the family name
But you don’t have to try to live up to it!

Well, we’d at least been blessed with a warm sunny day
and by noon had visited several of the addresses
The gardens were neat and colourful for the most part
The natives were pretty friendly too, as long as
you said “Thank you” and showed a minimal interest
Even more so if you purchased a supposedly rare potted offering

What struck me most though was that some of the gardens
resembled oases of colour, water, sunshine and birdsong
in a desert of plaster, brick, concrete and noise
Not only would passers-by be unaware of the beauty
enclosed therein but in some cases be unaware of their very presence

Pondering thus and strolling lazily along
licking the obligatory ice-cream cornet who should
I bump into but the Poetmaster himself
elegantly attired for the occasion
After exchanging pleasantries I expounded my oases metaphor
and he said “There a poem in there somewhere”
Nodding sagaciously in agreement I seriously doubted
however that I would be able to find it!

The rest of the day passed enjoyably enough
and our little band dispersed
Reaching home I reflected on the group –
a motley crew perhaps but each in their own way
encumbered yet strengthened by their journey through life
Over a period we’d learned quite a lot about
each other and developed mutual respect
how much poorer my life would be I thought
had I never met them yet alone come to recognise
the fine personal qualities they each possessed
It was all a bit like the Hidden Gardens really

“Aha!” I thought, “Now I can write my poem” –
and I have. The only thing left to worry about is
what the Poetmaster will make of it at our next meeting.