Poem: Alone, In The Garden
Alone, in the garden, she‘s sitting,
surrounded by roses and fern…
and ivy that twines ever upward,
as if for the sky it does yearn.
She sits there with just her own memories,
randomly keeping her company…
of days long passed - of loved ones she’s lost…
of things that are never to be.
She relives those days as they’re passing…
as if on a screen for her eyes…
the good times she’s known, as well as the bad.
No controlling, so she doesn’t try.
As she sits there alone with her musings,
so often the questions are there...of ...
“What if I’d taken a different road?
Would fate still have guided me here?”
As the ivy keeps growing and seeking,
so, her thoughts are doing the same.
Her memories entwined as the ivy,
in reviewing her life story’s game.
The thing about life, there’s no game plan.
We are winging it – all of the way.
We’re tossed, to and fro, by warm winds or ill;
it’s thus from our very first day.
In the end we are all left to ponder
- in our garden of old memories-
to try and untangle and sort it all out
...life’s infinite mysteries!