|
Mother's GardenHappy were the sounds coming from the little white house on Walnut street where a small boy of five played in the back yard, near his mother’s beautiful flower garden so clean and neat. Roses of red, daffodils tall and true, colorful gladiolas too. Morning glories, red, white and blue growing on the garden gate, and spotted wing butterflies fluttered from one flower to another. Little did he know of his life long fate. The sand in the hour glass quickly passed and here he stands with all those years gone so fast. Here on Walnut street in front of that old house, no longer white, but a dirty weathered gray. Windows broken and nothing seem to have survived from those childhood days. Where sixty two years ago he remembered that beautiful garden in the back yard were he played as a boy of five. He walks around the house to the back, where his mother’s beautiful garden once grew, but only tall ugly brown weeds came into his view. He tried to remember his mother’s beautiful garden, that all those years ago he once had known, but now only tall weed have grown. He shuts his eyes and imagines that he is only five, and lo and behold... there were Red roses, daffodils tall and true, gladiolas too. Morning glories red, white and blue growing on the garden gate and kneeling in this beautiful garden was his mother in her tender loving grace and once again for the first time in sixty five years... he could remember her beautiful smiling face. Jackie R. Kays Copyright…2004 Vote for this poem
|
|
| |