Secret Yard Gardens

Never before have
the mushrooms come,
having sprung up 
beneath the colors
of the setting sun, 
like harbingers sending word
for the others to follow suit,
to settle in, to family reproduce.
I feel like the searched-for 
hostess, the mortally-cloaked
fairy princess.
Little do the other humans know,
I live to be that escape artist, 
to visit like Alice 
the enchanted kingdoms
among the petals and leaves
and gypsy fungus. 
Even the dog knows
to respect the magic. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

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