Garden Poetry
Ten years ago I was bereft.
My garden began when you left.
Literally on my hands and knees,
clearing paths among surrounding trees.
Uncovered were the root of one tree,
winding it's way around the rockery.
Rusted gardening tools, a fire grate,
children's toys and a wrought iron gate.
The sweat on my brow healed my heart.
Then buying plants, I made a start.
From the smallest alpine to the tallest tree,
I now have two hundred and eighty three.
My garden brings me so much joy,
it feels as though it was my buoy.
To see such beauty lifts my heart.
Each bud unfolding playing it's part.
Now the children are up and gone,
in the peace I hear the birds' song.
Time to reflect and sip some wine.
Gosh, I'm glad this garden's mine.
09/06/2020
Garden Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Copyright © Jean Murray | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment