Green Garden Gate

The garden with its little gate of green,
Invites you to enter, and view mysteries unseen,
Its vine laden bowers and overhanging trees,
The air filled with sweetness, the hum of the bees,
The flagged walks with Iris galore,
Of most beautiful coloring, unknown before,
Pink, white, purple, yellow, azure blue,
Mixed and mingled of every hue,
You come away wondering, can more beauty be seen
Than in the garden with its little gate of green.

 I remember as a child my mother and father could not agree about the life of our iris. It was my father who tended the beds, dividing and replanting, enjoying the beauty of bed full of blossoms across the front of our house.  It was my mother that took the shears outside to cut these lovely flowers so she could enjoy their beauty and fragrance indoors. Who was right I ask myself? Should I cut them and enjoy them up close all day, or should I leave them in their beds inviting me to come outside and drink in their beauty? I think my father was right.............