She was once a young lady, wonderful and life was filled with mystery, and not a passion in sight. But all too late the young lady, now old, realizes the importance of youth to maintain the garden she loves and how easily it can be taken away.
It was a cold day
My flowers were wilting
And the squirrels' fur was hiking
Summer's leaves began to fall
The trees were able to add another ring
As another skin coated them
They were left barebones and empty
With the grass at its feet
Left dry and pale
I squatted and plowed
Day after day in those frail bushes
Hoping to help them flourish
For at least a day
But all hopes were ruined
By that horrid frost
I wept like a mother for their deceased child
Asking and pleading God for No More!
My youth had been lost
My hands were too crippled
My body had wasted away
And my garden
My beautiful pride
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.