In ten years…a soft reprieve
The lithe little girl takes my hand
and leads me gingerly to the garden.
Her delicate face, with her mother’s soft eyes,
glimmers in the will-o-wisp light.
My brittle bones welcome the sun’s warmth.
I drag my heavy feet along the path,
my body both rooted to the earth
and prone to teetering into it.
The elfin 10-year-old is kind-hearted
and patient as I totter along.
Her mother reminds her to hold my hand,
not to let me fall.
We settle into our ritual
touching the leaves of the
furry lambs ear, rubbery fig and smooth dogwood.
We pick a ripe lemon.
We stop to smell the honeysuckle’s
sweet yellow and white blooms.
We pause at the dazzling pink azalea bush
and imagine curling up together inside a blossom.
She is sprightly like a woodland fairie
at home among the trees and pansies.
When the golden-crowned sparrow cheeps,
I think I see her wings emerge.
Our spirited imaginations
blanket the truth of my unyielding state.
The wonders we share
cushion my life’s razor-sharp reality.
Used by permission of the author.