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Beauty of the Ancient, Hanging Gardens
The smell of beauty punches,
hiding the musk of the city.
Waking to work again,
excited for new growth.
Its beauty astonishes.
Walking to where it stands,
the aroma increases.
The infinite number of steps ahead,
climbing to the top.
Its beauty bewilders.
From the top looking down,
inhaling its infinite beauty.
My job is to weed out the evil,
and plant good.
beauty overwhelms.
With each breath,
the aroma fills my lungs,
and overloads my senses.
I stand and breathe.
Its beauty confounds.
The end of the day arrives,
work left for tomorrow.
I yearn to return,
the wonders await me.
Its beauty fulfills.
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