Mustard Weeds

Beyond the iron gate

A formal English garden

Trimmed hedges flanking

Fresh lavender and delphinium

Rows of flawless roses

Nothing unwieldy

No empty spaces that leave you guessing

Nothing savage, threatening

A place of tangible perfection

But I remember when it was just mustard weeds

Growing in spaces between wild grass

It was a place of untamed beauty

Perfect in every way