Gardens of Roses
My grandmother visits me in the garden
as I cut dead limbs from the azalea
I can smell her soap and perfume
The love I once longed for
opens the pores on my arms
She knows there are roses
newly planted. The dirt turned over brown
wraps their roots in memoriam. In the hidden
chambers of my ears I hear her voice
calling “Leethie” and we smile
together through time
The Light Behind the Story 
How lucky
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It is nice to feel her presence from time to time, as we were not close while she was alive.
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I have the exact same situation with my mother- maybe it’s a second chance
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I think perhaps it is. ❤
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A moving remembrance, Alethea.
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Thank you, Cynthia ❤
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Lovely, Alethea. The scent of roses as I planted them at Nicks this week took me back to my great granny’s garden and revivified many memories x
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There’s nothing that quite compares to the smell of roses, is there? Looking forward to seeing Nick’s garden someday. It really looks wonderful from the pictures. ❤
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It will be gorgeous when it is done … he’s loving it ❤
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Beautiful, Alethea… ❤
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Thank you, Bette ❤
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