I’m not sure if you can see them
From your side of the wall,
But those trimmers missed a spot or two.

But it’s okay, because now there are some lovely flowers
Blooming in our garden.
Wind-buffeted, they dangle.
Desperately reaching
Over the wall,
Trying to get back to where nature is free.

They dare not crane their petals
To glimpse the horrors behind them.
The bush from which they spring is bald and sad
Without the sun to give it colour.

Do flowers hear the grass cry out,
Or is it drowned out by the mower?

Come, little yellow friends,
Ours is the utopia,
Overgrown and weedy.
Shun that desolation,
Neatness is forbidden,
We are but guests in your dominion,
Here is where you sing.

One thought on “Refugees

Leave a Reply to jean butterworth Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s