Poem: Alone, In The Garden
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 ponders 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 thoughts as 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.
And so in the end we’ll be sitting
in our garden of old memories-
to grapple with - to try and untangle
life’s infinite mysteries!