A summer's garden provides a joyous remembrance. |
I remember candles in the garden that August. So long ago, by the calendar’s reckoning, yet it seems like yesterday. Hunter green they were, among the white and pink impatiens, the gold geraniums, lilacs and white roses named for Elizabeth Taylor. We would light the candles at sunset, and walk hand in hand. (There wasn’t very far to go, intoxicating lilac scent. Yet green the candles burned at night reminding us what passion meant. ) August’s last garden sent a signal I remember. Loud and clear, a flash of clarity through the opaque past, a finger string taut sparking memory with urgent kindness, a nudge pulling up pleasant mind-files kept secretive yet secure, brain safe. Candles, flowers… thoughts speaking softly and kind. (They were not very hard to find, those thoughts in storage of ago. Uplifting are the memories that bring about an inner glow.) Heart to heart, walking at sunset, flowers in burgeoning beauty as fall was hinting, wicks then lit to mood the dark and perhaps even accent the moon… a gentle breeze announcing night’s calling, all this and more flash back in joyous celebration. I remember candles in the garden that August. 35 Lines Writer’s Cramp Winner 8-21-19 |