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from gloriana casey
There is a Secret Garden Place,
and Evil is its name.
For planter thieves have come to town,
in human sense—such shame.
Oh yes I know, you think you’re cool,
a shopping in the dark.
But what you stole has value more
and evil leaves its mark.
A planter insignificant?
I doubt that thought–really!
For garden love is passed on down
in family revery.
Perhaps it was community,
a sense of sharing view;
the way to make a street more loved,
has this occurred to you?
Oh yes, on comes the holiday,
and many they do lack.
In Christmas spirit, I do ask
please put that planter back!
For evil gardens grow in minds
and what of you green thief?
For karma it comes back to you,
and won’t always be sweet.
For in that Garden–Stolen Plants,
there grows an evil seed.
So thief then —I must ask of you,
are you flower—or a weed?
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from gloriana casey
There is a Secret Garden Place,
and Evil is its name.
For planter thieves have come to town,
in human sense—such shame.
Oh yes I know, you think you’re cool,
a shopping in the dark.
But what you stole has value more
and evil leaves its mark.
A planter insignificant?
I doubt that thought–really!
For garden love is passed on down
in family revery.