In a neglected garden's old embrace,

A half-barrel splintered, out of place.

A tired bench yearned for paint's soft gleam,

Empty pots, and beds a forgotten dream.

A heatwave raged, a relentless fire,

Each digging, each filling, a weary desire.

A tall umbrella, a reach too high,

Blocking sun from a sweat-filled sky.

Then a friend arrived, with a helping hand,

Brought bark and manure to enrich the land.

And now the rains, a welcome sound,

Greening lawns where paths were brown.

The work almost done, the tasks near ceased,

Soon to rest in that corner, finding peace.

To finally bask in the sun's warm ray,

In my little garden, come what may.