Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Garden

the garden
was a neat and tidy place
where he pedalled,
up and down

bees droned away their lives
above its verdant grace;
the smell of grass wafted round

his shirt was a favourite:
chequered, not plain
and while it grew tatty
he gave it a name
he couldn’t pronounce
with the sole tooth sticking out of his mouth

through the wire fence
a strawberry called,
begging to be picked.
it drew his gaze
but his mother’s, in return, was dark

not for her the shame
of an embarrassing trip next door
to explain
how the young man had, so atrociously, erred

*

when it rained
the garden swarmed,
came to life
brimmed with joy
but that wasn’t for people, just birds

from the stuffy indoors
he would watch
as they shivered off raindrops
and nary a word

before long, a big dog
(who needs walking!)
and schoolbooks to carry
then came the girls
and slowly the garden shrank
to the size of a postage stamp

but still the birds came
and the rain fell even stiller and cold
though he no longer saw these miracles –

he’d let go

of a transient place
of the lushness, of grace
in a heartbeat
to which he’d now return

posted by Kirk at 3:10 am  

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