Granny's Garden

Granny’s Garden the garden is still there with the worn path that softly winds through the flowers and the shrubs. the water no longer flows in sheeted rainbows from the broken fountain but the old tree that bears my childhood scars still stands guard behind the cement table and the rotted wood seats that once held yellow buttercups and white daisies in tall glass vases. the fence that once sagged now falls across the stone wall that I defended so long ago. the wall has fallen into gravestones of those I hold close to me in far distant lands that only I can see.