It was to be our own sanctuary:
a hidden dell where ivy climbs through step-
stone lined paths in dappled shade beneath trees.
With strong hands you wrought earth, a promise kept
without complaint. You laid plans while I slept
inside in sickness; you carried stones and
placed soil to meet my dreams. You’d take me, wrapped
in blankets, to see the red maple and
gingko placed perfectly. Now that our plan
bears fruit and I’m better, now that our space
bursts with flowery scent, you smile but can’t
appreciate. You’ve forgotten my face.
Our garden is in bloom, but your leaves fell.
Sit now and hold my hand and smell. Just smell.
PAD Challenge 12: happiest moment or saddest moment (or both)