The precious flowers that color and fragrance my world
are somehow lost to me today–no, not just today
for weeks, I am now realizing
I stumble over simple explanations
fret over words and phrases
My flower garden has become a nightmare
a tangled, unkempt patch of weeds
the home of trolls and wicked beasts
all strangling my mind to the point of numbness —
Is this what my future holds?
The digging, digging for the right things to say
If I could bulldoze the entire plot over, I would
and begin anew–an empty garden
Am I still young enough, well-enough?
or will I suffer my grandmother’s fate?
Unable to plant, I will merely pass away
Copyright ©2015 Ravyne Hawke