A Garden in a Flat

I am a child of the open wild

of flowers and ferns with different blooms and hues.

I am a child of the open wild

of cloudless skies and golden sunsets.

Sparkling streams and prancing fauna

I was once the queen of my lair.

A long time ago I came to the city

to seek my silk and fortune

In a cocoon layered with milk

And feathers, I’ve found my trove

but among its comfort, too

my treasures have turned to turmoil


Potted plants – hibiscus, cactus and river lilies

lay about my flat ­–  stunted, limp and morose

I can feel their sadness, their unspoken accusation

River lilies and wild cactus rarely bloom well in shade!

Like me, my plants are children of the open wild

permanently trapped in gloom.


I could pack-up, go back;

nudged on by dreams of sparkling rivers

and sun-dried  baobab seeds;

but my acquired comforts serenade my senses:

like salt fused with pepper, entangled

cementing my disconnect.


So, memories of a bygone paradise are all I have left.

Jammed in sinews and pink-dotted atoms

they row –  in frustration, a DNA gone amok.

The jangle of the street trams and fumes from exhaust pipes,

like mocking birds in full flight,

they rattle, rant and remind me

that I am a child of the open wild

surrounded by a garden in pots.

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