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The tall pine trees that grow to the sky
Shade an armchair as I stroll by.
Winding pathways weave through daffodils
As it leads to a view of a thousand hills.
Not one moment is it dark at Friar Park.
Caves are filled with distorted mirrors and gnomes
Some even occupy frightening skeleton bones.
A maze so big you'd be there till dawn
Ends with a life-size statue of the Matterhorn.
Not one moment is it dark at Friar Park.
A row boat in the water patiently waits
In one of the 3 man-made lakes.
Above the water, I jump across stepping stones
Beside the bank, the lawn is neatly mown.
Not one moment is it dark at Friar Park.
Five full-time gardeners keep it looking clean
Tending over 40,000 flowers and trees.
A small, narrow creek trickles past my feet
Nearby, a hedge is cut precise and neat.
Not one moment is it dark at Friar Park.
But one day, it turned dark beneath the sun's rays
For the owner had peacefully passed away.
The daffodils have wilted and the rocks have grown moss
Because the love and devotion for the garden was lost
Now it will be forever dark at Friar Park.
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