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Gnome sweet Gnome

In a corner of the garden, amongst the weeds and thorns
Stands a gnome as ancient as the days and, quietly, he mourns.
He's assistant to the Gardner who oversees it ALL.
So, even though the thorny briars tower very tall,

The gnome, he knows the Gardner can hear his daily prayer,
Even when he whispers it when no one else is there;
Even when his gnome-spark feels cold and blue and tired;
Even when his thoughts are dim and grey and uninspired.

The gnome has something pure inside that keeps his spark alive:
It is tiny and it's shining and it REALLY wants to thrive.
But all around this tiny seed exists a mighty shell
Like a wall that will not fall without a mighty magic spell.

And so the gnome has waited with his ear to the ground,
Using patience as his virtue as he listens for the sound
Of the footfall of the Gardner who will know just what to do:
For the Gardner is wise.  He is faithful.  He is true.

And so, upon this breezy, bright and hopeful day in Spring,
(The smell of change was in the air and birds were on the wing),
The gnome woke up and stretched beneath the morning's hazy glow,
And there it was: the sound of footsteps walking in the snow.

Sitting up in wonder, incredulity and awe,
This is, surely, what the gnome's endurance had been for:
The winter had been so so cold; the frost around his feet;
The icy wind; the sunless sky; the naked trees; the sleet.

But now the Spring was here and the Gardner had come.
The gnome could hear him laughing with the spirit of the Sun,
Conversing with the flowers and communing with the trees
In a haze of sweet aromas and a warm and pleasant breeze.

And now the gnome could see him as he came around the Oak:
He was such an awesome Gardner; such an awesome bloke.
The Gardner saw the gnome and smiled.  "Hello, gnome," he said.
The gnome looked up in adoration; bowed his balding head.

"Are you him: the Gardner?  The bloke that... knows the... stuff?!"
"I'm really glad you turned up, fella.  Winter time was tough."
"I tried to do the gardening.  I tried to do it good."
"I tried to not do things I shouldn't; do the things I should,"

"While I waited for a sign from you to plant this wretched seed."
"But then you went away – I haven't had the things I need."
"I've waited and I've waited.   I've been ready.  I've been here,"
"Year after year after year after year."

The Gardner smiled warmly through his peaceful sky-blue eyes,
And the gnome became receptive to the wisdom of the wise
As it shone upon his gnome-spark; as it fell upon the ground;
As it danced in many languages of colour and of sound.

It whispered in his beating heart, "It's time to plant your seed,"
"In the Garden of YOUR SPIRIT!  Will you follow where I lead?"
"Understand I'm ALWAYS in the Kingdom of your heart."
"THIS is where you plant your seed.   This is where WE start.

Poetic portrait for Paul Mason
28th December 2016 © Simon Welsh Poetry
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