The Gardener

The Gardener



In her yard filled with flowers
We talked for many countless hours
Of Politics, Religions, and Daffodils
About old memories and strong wills
Minutes turn to hours, days, weeks, and months
Throughout the holidays and such
Outside in her garden, summer, fall, winter, and spring
While Robins, Finches, and Sparrows sing

Moss covered sidewalks and flowering vines
Suit her yard just fine
Under the iron trellis the moss-covered sidewalk lays
Past patches of roses and rows of rosebay
Sit potted plants, hanging bird feeders, and chimes
Where my friend and I laugh with the times
Divulging in her world of annuals, perennials, and ivies
While flowers are pollinated by humming bumblebees

the south wind softly blows
tree limbs lightly against her windows.
By Daisies, Tulips, and Foxglove
Past the pleasant cooing of a dove
Today, outside in her garden, morning, evening, till moonlight
I gaze at the moon with delight.
Doubtful it is only the conversation I come here for.
It’s her garden I adore.