Childhood In A Garden

Poem By Dr. Charles A Stone

One day I'd whirl through the garden,
fingers splayed in sunny rays
above newborn buds singing.

Next day, I'd stand statue-still,
untied shoelaces spreading
like rhizomes around my feet
while tornadoes of sand slipped
through a clenched fist spinning.

On other days, near birthdays
and holidays, I'd sit in the shade,
lining up pleases and thank-yous
in perfect rows wishing.

Or, I'd be a hummingbird
with ruby throat and quick tongue
darting over flowers pollinating
pretending to understand
the secret language of birds and bees.

If I could not go into the garden
because of rain or behavior so bad
it would reduce a mother to weeping,
I'd stay indoors pondering the mystery
of weeds, the promise of flowers.

I'd get through the hours of confinement
with the help of petal-brushed memories
of the garden, then and even now, as I gaze
out the office window dreaming.

Comments about Childhood In A Garden

Always dreaming myself, looking out of windows of my soul instead, seeing life through nature and remembering childhood with family. Can identify with what you've written, very nice. Thank you for sharing your poems with the world. RoseAnn
truelyy a beautifully designed poem...........vry nice......... i also invite u to read mine......

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