The Garden

"Can we walk through the garden today?"

"Sure." She scampers ahead to the wrought iron gate and slips through the crack.

You enter in on dappled light -- the shock of shade throws a cool cotton sheet over your heat waved body.

"Can we use the watering cans today?"

You glance at the well, nod to the two men standing there and say, "Not today."

She darts into a hedged plot, retrieves a little potted flower -- a single shasta daisy in a white cup.

"Can I have this one?"

"That belongs to the girl who died," you say, pointing at the headstone marking the neatly gardened patch.

"The dead girl?" She is shocked. "Why is her dead?"

You are, too, having come here for over a year, to realize that, for her, it was only a garden.



Words by ea
Read 875 times
Written on 2006-08-02 at 13:37

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