Ode to My Forgotten Garden

Many months’ weather and weekends have passed;

winter is gone, and I’ve not climbed your stairs

with my shovel and gloves—you’ve not seen my face,

so buried I’ve been in a canyon of cares.


With winter came the winds of regret—

for those I wear new wrinkles within.

I’ve mourned the untimely loss of a pet,

and grieved for the death of a treasured friend.


I’ve neglected you—but in spirit of grace

you offered the gift of forgiveness to me

by leaving a present—a veil of white lace,

beneath the navel orange tree.


Its delicate petals of sweet-smelling cream

are a portal for me to a time and a place

and a memory that was reached only by dream,

of the innocent bride in a gown of white lace.


I believe in your natural healing powers

and roots that tap deep into my soul

to lift me beyond the hollow hour,

out of the heartbroken—into the whole.




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