I stand in the lane

Looking at the garden

Well tended by You-Know-Who

And think it's beautiful.

I'd like to go in

And walk for hours

But I can't

They don't Know me.

I look at the round, painted door

Which is open for the breeze

And I wish so hard

That it was open for me.

I want to go in

Sit with Them

Be with Them

But they don't notice me.

As I stand looking

Tears of longing in my eyes

I feel a gentle hand

Take mine.

I turn to see

Two before me

Green eyes and Grey eyes

Smiling at me now.

They bow politely

Call me "Miss"

And pull me through

That round, painted door

that I wanted to open

just for me.