Each day I walk through your garden,
which you toiled incessantly.
Giving life with those beautiful, elegant hands,
cultivating all within your careful touch.
Creation from nothing but insignificant seedlings,
helping them to stand erect for themselves.
Keeping warmth when needed,
a cool drink as the hot sun scorched.
I watched as you formed a paradise,
exquisiteness beyond all that I knew.
With color which couldn’t be described,
fragrances that no man could ever dream.
That angelic face shone the passion,
gave way to understanding needs for survival.
Flora grew, outstretched to touch you,
beckoning your creativity, your gift.
But today the beauty fades,
leaving only dead flowers to remember you by.
As I walk through your garden,
knowing how it felt, our love withering away.
Gary Scott Gebert
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dead-flowers/
