Today I stood beneath this lilac tree and breathed deeply. The scent of the blossoms and the damp woody smell of twigs and branches whisked me, magic carpet-like, from present to past.
The destination today, as it always is when I smell lilacs, lily of the valley, or the sharp, sweet scent of roses growing in the sunshine, was my Granny’s flower garden.
A few years ago, one of my writing courses included a focus on poetry, and when we learned to write sonnets, I composed this one. There are tons of better–written sonnets in the world, but not many better memories. I lost Granny when I was just 10 ½ years old, but it’s incredible how often I still feel her love.
GRANNY’S GARDEN
Her finger tickles Johnny-Jump-Up’s chin,
To Black-Eyed-Sue she smiles and nods her head.
A garden fence surrounds the plants within;
And soft dark earth provides them all a bed.
***
White Easter lilies growing in a pot,
Perfumed lilacs, poppy’s orange-red blaze,
Soft peonies and shy forget-me-nots,
Transport me back: I wish I could remain.
***
I hear her gentle voice, and see her smile,
While showing me a dainty bleeding heart.
This is all I have, and for awhile
I feel again how hard it was to part.
***
But blooming rose, wild violets growing free,
Are all it takes to bring her back to me