Old Lady In The Garden ~ (Poem)

poetry about farm life written by Lori Davis


My hands are blistered,

red, deep and sore.

I’ve worked this shovel so hard,

until I want to work it no more.

The blisters are oozing,

my back’s starting to break.

But, no stopping for me,

until I finish this rake.

So tidy is she,

the garden is ready.

through shovel and hoe,

my work I keep steady.

I can’t stop now,

I’ll keep plow’n along.

This garden she deserves it,

I’ll just keep humming my song.

“Rise little garden, you fill me with delight.

Your food and your nourishment,

makes me feel right.

Your blessings you send,

in bounties galore.

I’ll keep weeding this garden,

until I fall flat on the floor.”

This ol’ lady am I,

now old and gray.

I look out at my garden,

and bless God for this day.

The children are gone.

Grand children are here.

How I reflect deep on my life,

when the children aren’t near.

My garden’s my paradise,

it reminds me of when,

our children were little;

digging their feet deeply in.

Dark soil, so rich,

their little feet were deep black.

How I’d bath them forever,

then throw them in the sack.

So many years in my garden,

the memories abound.

As if my children are still here,

in this garden surround.

Old lady in the garden,

I have found my resting place.

May God keep me going,

until I depart from space.

~ L. Davis




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