2002 The Garden An English scene of tranquil bliss, I live my life for all of this, And so much more can I enjoy, Remembering time, when I was a boy, The bugs and beetles scurried past, For then my life, the pace was fast, I waited not for flowers to grow, But watched the seeds begin to sow, I looked upon the garden then, As one aged 9 or maybe 10, I could not foresee what would await, When I would get to 68, The flower lives, and then it dies, Its petals, upturned toward the sky, For when the bee lands on its face, Its colour, is its saving grace. The birds have come, and food have found, Some on the branch, some on the ground, They come to me, from far and wide, To land and wait, down at my side, My table, I do share with them, And hope that they will come again, For every year the blackbird brings, Its chicks, for me, upon its wings, I sit and wait, under my canopy, And watch the sun set over me, When the sky, has turned to red, Away, I make unto my bed. My dreams, they are of summers long, For in my schooldays, they come from, The years of pain, to haunt me now, This crease, to make upon my brow, For I am wise, but still afraid, Of things I`ll miss, when I am laid, Beneath this earth, I do love so, To watch the stars, from down below.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Jul 2013 11:34:29 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015