Once I was a young thicket
With meager blossoms
Though lush,
Fragrant.

An occasional curious heart
Wandered through,
Lingered,
But rarely tended.

Now I am thick with years,
Brambles and thorns,
Caring for my own growth,
Stretching to prune
Outer limbs.

I have longed for my gardener.
Alas, he has not come,
My garden grown wild.

My fragrance wafts
Sweet on autumn winds
Too soon before tears freeze
Solid in the frost.

06/29/2009

Posted on 06/30/2009
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie