I remember when these levels weren’t here,

And a long, sloping incline took you to the top.

When we hired a digger to carve it out,

And it looked rough and quite barren.

 

I’ll remember the bamboo you planted,

I’ll remember laying down the turf,

And the way you seemed prouder of my help,

Than you did of any of my school work.

 

I remember the Acer who was cruelly dwarfed,

And later stolen by granddad.

Whisked away to safer pastures,

When you weren’t looking.

 

I’ll remember the magnolias that mum picked,

That I didn’t think would grow,

But somehow they did and she was so pleased,

To sit upon the swing and watch them flower.

 

I remember the Priory stones we unearthed,

And tried to make a path out of,

And the teenagers who couldn’t realise your vision,

So I shouted at them for you.

 

I remember the decking that we built,

That got slippery in the rain,

And so you replaced it with plastic grass,

That tickled our feet like an outdoor carpet.

 

I’ll remember the pond you had my husband dig,

Like he was digging his own grave in a mobster movie,

And the way you had your other son-in-law,

Finish it off, earning their keep.

 

I’ll miss putting the world to rights on the doorstep,

I’ll miss the smell of roses in the rain,

I’ll miss the swing in the summer,

But I won’t forget it, and neither will you.

 

 

2 thoughts on “I Will Miss This Garden

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