In a place I was so happy
Where once lay matte’s of flowers
Vibrant and alive
Luscious and living
Pleasure giving
I’m crying in vacancy
The solitary realisation
I burned too many bridges
Chilled relations
Locked fridges cold
Only my own hand to hold
scared
Crying
Crying because I see emptiness now
and I know I could do better.
There were once swathes of sunlight here.
But alas I fear too late.

flashback

Sunbeam rays on garden flowers.
Wild garden flowers from mother
Lined up against a cracked brick wall
enviously tall I wished to be strong
on
Tiptoe.
Tiptoe in the pretty garden.
carved from your own hands.
a mistress of those flowers you were...
And you asked me never to grow up
For I feel you must face decline
But mum I ask you hold the hands
And stop the clock
The sun clock shadow seems stationary
But like a creeping tide
It sweeps even the most gentle brow

Mum you planted daffodil bulbs
and they flowered and shined every spring.
Those mother nature magical things
I remember you
 
I loved that garden
 loved all your flowers.
The wispy blue sky, sunlight scenes
Grazed knees and ice creams
and the lying on the grass summer-bird daydreams.
The colour and canopy of your dress - its shimmer and sheen.


I can’t do it in my asphalt yard
its black and sticky and hard
I ventured out there once
and I cut my foot on a glass shard
The deposit of a drunken city retard.

I tried to plant a flower there once….

It never worked
and it half grew and died
and I thought id killed it
so I sobbed and cried.
It may have had feelings.
Fragile and sensitive
Caring, attentive.

Just like you.

You see Mum...
your soft soil yields fertility
and the warmth of your arms.
Grates upon me missing
Mum I’m frightened

colder now.
so far away.
Tempered by silk panels
Lay the pain
soft rich soil
nothing
cold clay
and your Sunsilk hair turned rainy grey
a voice distant
echoes
sways
It wilts it fades.
A floral tribute
please don’t go away