I often think of our Secret Garden
where only you and I may stroll
where the sweet peas make a jungle
and the purple lilacs grow
Where errant breezes waft a thousand scents
where untamed roses grace the walls
and the little scrollwork garden bench
where, hand in hand, we've watched as evening falls
Forget-me-nots and marigolds
with babys-breath to wreath the flowers
make me think of memories made and shared
in this Secret Garden of ours
The sturdy walls of hand picked stone
provide such charmed seclusion
that we oft forget our labor's pains
amidst the sweet and lush profusion
No one but us has seen this place
though we've given them bouquets
as the quiet beauty of our garden
gives joy to all our days
Wisteria vines gently intertwine
about the trunk of the McIntosh tree
while jacobs ladder and hollyhocks
enhance the splendor of the scene
Our Secret Garden is full of magic
where elves and fairies play
and it keeps turning all our tomorrows
into golden yesterdays