Freedom is a beautiful tree that stands

proud in my colourful garden of hope,

and I have watched it grow and seen

it branches reach to the light of the sun,

and it provides shade and shelter,

holding fast against all the forces that

would knock it down, and I sit under this

tree in my garden and think about all that

I have, knowing that it will always be there,

upright, resolved, not broken by the

awful winds of destruction but swaying

with the breeze of change under the sun

and the moon, across the seasons, from

life to death, among all the wonderful

plants that make up this great garden

of hope in which I live free to wander.

 

But then I hear faintly in the distance,

a long way off it seems, but closer than

I think, the sound of a chainsaw, and

I ask myself is it coming my way,

coming to my garden of hope.

 

6/9/2025