.in my garden.

i wish i wrote like you guys, wish it were more direct.


it has been noted as abstract, yet i cannot see that.


he wanted a garden, this one. we  looked

at other houses, he wanted this one.



a garden as seed for the future.


when he died i let it grow and hid here. now

i tidy , grow seeds for the future.





7 thoughts on “.in my garden.

  1. I live in a house built in 1915, in a sketchy neighborhood, a house my husband wanted, promising to repair it and make it both pretty and serviceable. When he died unexpectedly at 54, little of the needed work had been done. Hr did get a six foot fence built, and I hide here behind that fence, haunted both by him and my long time companion who fell to HIS death at age 44, twelve years before.

    This poem, abstract or not, resonates directly with me, a sign of which is the tightness in my throat.

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