I think it was a potter
Who once created a garden from clay moulds
And left them to dry in the sun
He then scattered them all over the Earth
Playing with a pallet of original colours
An orange brushstroke here, purple there, some yellow, white farther out
And so he'd never get tired of looking
He spread all colours through every season
Thus making each day unrepeatable
I like this magical garden the most when it rains
It smells of wet earth and fresh leaves.
Alex Fan Moniz
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/garden-of-eden-11/
