Love planted a garden in forty two,
beneath the sky, of summer’s moon.
Fraught with scores of lush green plants,
in time would yield tiny feet that dance.

The delicate blooms of flower’s grew,
in the season’s of years this garden knew.
On an October moon of forty three,
the color of gold, love began to see.

Not many moon’s later in an August haze,
love’s garden bloomed color’s red ablaze.
Several harvest passed, when in fourty eight,
a September’s dawn delivered a russet babe.

The garden complete or though it seemed,
when in fifty one, a surprise it would bring.
Among the flower’s that were thriving well,
new petals of yellow gave a fragrant smell.

August garden gift, with it’s golden strands,
brought ballerina daisies that love to dance.
Love’s garden seemed perfect in days of spring,
when in sixty one it’s last surprise to bring.

There in the blast of a long December chill,
love’s gift to bring would be a flower named Will.
Many years have passed, love’s garden sustains,
except that one has withered, now only four remain.

In the days of it’s glory, love’s garden saw tears,
but it’s memories bring comfort, in the passing years.
The wealth of love’s garden, can never be measured,
and will only be known, by the flower’s love treasured.

Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 12/29/2009!