memorium

I know a place where flowers grow,
a secret garden locked and hidden,
where children play and dare to see.
In giggles and games and things believed,
No shame or hurt or pain to tell,
or grown up pictures of living hell.
cos only love and dreams will grow
in the minds luscious garden show.

some flowers sweet and some that stink,
but all whose purpose known,
to the great gardener who tends them
with loving hands, in hearts where seeds are sown.
And mysteries deep or bulbs of shrubs
and shade trees for later years,
afford protection from age and weather,
when overgrown with fears.

now Grandma's garden gate is shut,
no longer does she see,
who comes and goes and dreams of flowers,
and children playing free.
alas the children come and play,
and taste the gardens scent
eternal in the air its sweet,
why thats what Grandma meant!