I planted a garden,
Tended it well.
Every manner of flower grew there
And the birds came to dwell.
The fruit trees prospered
And neighbors came to talk.
I gave their children strawberries.
We would tell stories and walk.
We told stories of our Grandparents
And lit candles to see the squirrels' eyes.
In my garden, even when it rained,
There were rainbows in the sky.
Then somebody blew it up.
© 1986 James C. Holaday
JAMES C. HOLADAY is one of our recruits from the Mensa Writer's SIG. He lives in Henderson, TN, which he describes as a "town with one stop light and two barbers."
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