I walk along the garden wall
and smell the sweet perfume
of all the flowers as they call.
I stare in awe at colors there
that seem to shimmer in the air
as they drift lightly from the bloom
refreshed and chilled by each new moon.

While seeking peace on foreign shores
I missed this garden grace
for though the spirit often soars,
with travel and with strange new pace,

it is the commonality
of the familiar that consoles
the fire that rises from the soul,
when yearning for your comfort place.

Yet while across the sea I dreamed
of all the wonder I have seen
and lived to tell my progeny;
great things await your destiny.
And still the garden draws one near,
a well and trusted friend sincere.
Each red and green a wondrous scene
impacting on our memory
and calls us home to stroll and see
the beauty that is part of you -
like morning sunlight on the dew.

The ancient knotted oak still stands
as sentry to the garden door.
With limbs that stretch like iron hands,
to beckon you, return once more.
Unchanging are these precious sights
that carry through the stormy nights
and offer quiet solace to nocturnal frights.

And then one day the spirit rests,
now finished with life's daily tests,
no more to wander or to roam;
just settle in the middle of the garden you call home.

Learn more about this author, Tom Mcmurray.
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