• KMS team


This beautiful piece was written by, Paridhi Sharma of Somerville school, class 9th. the garden is her mind and the flowers are her memories.


In a small town far away is a garden, my garden, in that garden I keep my thoughts buried, hidden from the world and me. Sometimes when I visit the garden I see a blue flower, and as I smell the flower it reminds me of the memories I buried away from the world, from me, the memories that remind me of pain, as well as joy. The memories are of me as a child swaying on the swing, dancing in the rain without a care in the world, it all seems so silly now, but I would give anything to have that feeling again. The feeling of pure joy, the feeling you get when you smell the rain, the warmth you get when you are wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa, the feeling of peace at last. Remember the flowers in our school, in many colors and varieties, they were beautiful. I used to love looking at them, it made me think of how I grew up from that clumsy little girl to a clumsy teenager but never got tired of looking at them. In my garden there is a box, a black box, and in that box is a wilted sunflower. The sunflower my dear friend gave me, I lost the flower in the garden that day itself but the memory stayed with me. I imagine the sunflower wilted and faded into the soil. The garden has a bush of daisies, white daisy, which reminds me of a poem I read as a kid, it’s about a kid who looks at the stars over his head, they look like little white daisies, and when he starts to dream the moon gathers the daisies like a lady, sweet and fair, as he wakes up the lady had picked up all the daisies and dropped them into the meadow of the town and no more daisies are left in the sky. This poem reminds me of the times when I was at my Grandmothers place and would lay down on the grass and look up at the sky filled with stars and wish the time would stop and I would just lay there looking at those stars, wishing that the time would stop and what was about to happen wouldn’t happen, But I remember my mom asking me to come in for dinner and the moment broke and I sat up and said goodnight to the moon and her little white daisies. It’s been five years and still when I look at the moon, I imagine my mom calling me, I remember my dad’s loud laugh, I remember daisies. In that garden, in my garden are a lot of different trees and flowers, but my favorite thing is the white bench, covered in climbing hydrangeas, it’s a beautiful place. My garden has many more things, the little things and the one thing, the one thing called memories. My garden is filled with flowers that describe many of my memories. The garden is my mind in which my thoughts, my memories are represented through flowers and plants. The black dahlia represents my nightmares, and the daisies represent my childhood. The sunflowers describe my friendships, the friends that I will remember forever.

“Your mind is a garden; your thoughts are the seeds. You can grow flowers or weeds.”

- Osho

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