A Love of Nature-

I sit here in my garden

It alone is beautiful.

Sweet honeysuckle fills the evening air

And even the arrangement of patio chairs

fills me with some simple joy.

It is me.

It speaks of my energy.

Some abstract reflection of myself

That I love to sit within.

Yes ! I love it dearly !

Yet I sit alone.

Is it only me that sees?

Has anyone ever really loved me?

I laugh out loud

for I say those words

and half a dozen at least would provide the kindly remedy

with genuine concern and sympathy

for one sounding so needy.

But has anyone truly looked upon me

and smiled to see a spirit serene

Or allowed themselves to muse

What strange contemplations might lurk within.

Just then I glimpse two mating doves

He flashes his tail...she admires from afar.

But I am no beauty, and am further past my prime

Ther'll be no poet who'll write of honey skin and slender thigh

And I wonder if there is a mate

who'll look upon me and truly love whats inside.

As a life that grows wild with the spring,

blooms so briefly to wilt again

and dies, haggard and worn as the dark cold winter.

Oh, the needy love of childhood is gone

For the need of a life loved and shared as one.

The love of a garden in spring

With the wisdom of age to appreciate

the moment and all it is yet to bring.

In every breath a new life beginning.