John Anderson Poet Verse

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My Sweet-Pea Past

I tend my little garden secret,
where sweet-peas once climbed up-
the forgotten gates, all forlorn,
with blooms for lost chances, 
long since gone.

I count only the first five petals
of the blue forget-me-nots.
Each one a tiny glance-a-side,
I once brushed aside—

A lash upon an eyelid,  
that just closed.

There are the foxgloves 
ringing soft bells,
for all the might-have-beens, 
and if-only red roses,
that bloomed as promises
inside my head.

So I let my garden grow,
long and slow, to overgrow. 
Let it be distilled instead,
into a faint, yellow, elixir of perfume—
"My Sweet-Pea Past".

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