It was overgrown, full of weeds and Buttercups,
like a neglected old woman, time had taken its toll.
I walked along its verges avoiding stinging nettles,
my toes sunk into wet grass where worms heads turned.
A huge Buddleia leaned on a dirty wall, aloof,
like silence when silence scorns.
Old cans of pop, no bubble, no fizz
lay discarded amongst the brambles beside a child's ball.
There was the fork, the spade, an old rake
ignoring each other, unused, going rusty,
but as I looked up, I saw the Magnolia, a queen, of queens
rising, majestically, above it all.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weeds-and-buttercups/
