I want to give this poem to my friend, I wrote it, what do you think?

My Garden
The stone is cracked, water no longer flows from the once intricate fountain
The fresh chromatic hyacinths and roses are withered and died
Soil cracks with each foot step
It has become a place without the relief of water
The only thing thriving are the hedges, seemingly dead yet growing, enclosing me in
The once open wrought iron gate has been closed and locked
Did I grow these hedges, close the gate?
Did I kill the life that used to surround me?
Suddenly I see fingers playing with the lock on the gate
The hedges shrink
The rusty gate swings open
After each step she takes more life grows
A purple hyacinth brings forward a buzzing humming bird
Her smile repairs the cracks in the concrete, almost magic
Water begins to flow as I recognize her
Soft green grass pads my dirty soles as I run towards her
I thought my garden was impenetrable, completely locked, but I forgot one thing
I gave my best friend the key
it should be dried instead of died