My garden’s where I’m meant to be,
With lots of flowers around,
And some of them converse with me,
While others make no sound.
I thought my place was on the stage
Or maybe on the moon,
But, whether prudence or my age,
I’ve come to change my tune.
So now I need no longer go
To learn what wisdom knows;
I’m quite content to plant and sow
And nurture all that grows.
How long I’ll do so isn’t clear.
Right now, I could be buried here.
Photo by Emiel Molenaar on Unsplash
My Garden
