There hidden behind,

Curtains of leaves and plants,

Overgrown with wild lilies,

Daffodils, roses, daisies galore.

Veins running with liquid crystals,

twisting and turning through the garden,

The banks fresh with a vivid green stubble,

Dotted with the few groups of buttercups.

A portal crossing over the parting,

A pillar of stone contrasting starkly,

With the sweet gentle nature of the surroundings,

That effortlessly shone with beauty beyond its years.

And on that pillar, I stood,

Hair rustling with the soft breeze,

Overlooking with admiration and strong compassion,

My Little Secret.