I wish I had told you how
beautiful I thought your garden was,
and though I was quick to thank you
for the garlic and the sweet rosemary
your boys brought to me, I never told you
how lovely you were when I watched you
levelling the soil and pulling
the weeds next door.
There was something quite fetching
about the way your floppy summer hat
pushed the sun from your eyes
and how you set the earth
as firmly as the muscles in your back.
You are as fresh as the scent
of your rosemary that still sits,
dried now, on the sill
of my kitchen window,
and your kindness is planted
as firmly in my memories
as the scent of your gardens,
and as deep as the roots
you have planted next to my door.
© Nicole Lyons 2018