My mother's garden tells a story. |
My mother's garden tells a story Of warmth and sunlight Or of snow and cloudy skies And of Life, Death, and Rebirth A testament to Mother Nature's Ever-changing facade When the temperature outside begins To slowly climb and the snow melts Into the ground, the tulips poke their Bright heads above the soil Painting the air with vibrant Purples, pinks, reds and yellows If I had to define peace I'd say I love nothing more than to sit out On mother's patio, watching the lilies Swaying in the wind or the butterflies Flit from flower to flower while the fishpond Bubbles merrily in the background The moon lilies bloom until the first frost When they die and their sweet perfume No longer fills the night air you know Autumn is on its way--Still, the blazing Reds and oranges of the leaves keep the Impending cold away just a little longer But soon the pleasant colors, sights and sounds Of my mother's garden are buried by snow Leaving behind harsh blacks and browns and Silence. But winter doesn't last forever and When the temperature outside begins to climb The tulips poke their bright heads above the soil |