Garden Maze

The iron bench warmed by the sun felt good against his back. The willow trees rustled, swaying in the soft summer breeze. The pruning shears sat with the stained gloves next to him.

A task completed. The maze tended.

Her gazebo mocked. Not for the first time, he thought about tearing it down. A gesture wasted. Moments slipping through fingers.

What is real and what is illusion. Comfort from patterns repeated, predictable as misdirected. The for sale sign caught the breeze, squeaked. Perhaps the new owners would enjoy the maze’s irony. Or perhaps they would raze the garden. He shrugged.

(100 words)

Picture linked via Addicted to Purple.

1 thought on “Garden Maze

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s