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.
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