writing

The Small Unknown Garden

Old almost-dead roses cover one corner,

Over-watered daffodils fill another.

Dark, cold, miserable

Shrubbery blocks entrances,

Blocks visitors and suspicion

Unused toilets, once public

Now ruins

This garden holds secrets.

A hollow hill,

The central control center

A keypad,

Activating grounds,

A hose tap sitting guilelessly

Hiding illegal fake fingerprints

A circle of grass, supposedly to make planting easier

Is a lift,down into the center of the hill

Down into the headquarters

I look around, taking in the scene,

A formidable place,

Something from a spy book,

Something from an old tale.

I don’t like it,

I don’t belong here.