A sanctuary instead of a bleak graveside –
changing over time to our needs.
A silent witness to our grief.
Watered with a million tears, it repays our sorrow with spring buds and bursts of colour.
Reminding us everything lays dormant for a time,
where growing and rejuvenation occurs out of sight.
Easily mistaken for a wasteland.
In the blink of an eye – a life time for some – life sprouts forth,
injecting the air with purples, yellows, pinks and blues like sprightly statues of youth and vigour.
Stoutly refusing to give in to the rain and wind that occasionally pounds the English countryside where my baby lies.