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English Garden

I have found the treasure that lies at the Rainbow's end; surrounded by Sweet William, for-get-me knots, and crimson shades of velvet rose. Near the cottage of old where I was young, the quaint charm of the English garden. Where time has not weathered with due harm, swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air. Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst of a sunny afternoon. Seconds where dreams danced on the moon, sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath. Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes where a thousand of narcissus bloom. I watch them sway the day away tossing their sweet perfume to the winds. Wicker seats and ivory benches upon I sit and muse. The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden, a rose plot, fringed pool and serenity. Burn the sage, the leaves of rose and wintergreen Light the candles in the middle of the afternoon. From within my center core I breathe for more of this paradise near heavens view. Sweet surrender to growing things, cupids chimes in melody rings, for here is a heavenly peace that mirrors my thirsty soul. My x4 Great Grandmother was from England a Duchess but she chose to marry my X4 Great Grandfather and lost her inheritance and rights for neglecting the wishes of the family in England. He was a Captain of the sea and brought many to the American shores of Mass. In reading and studying, I found she loved to write of the sea and those things she cherished from England and growing up, from memoires, she has touched my muse and from time to time, I let her speak of such cherished beautiful things.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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