Ann's Gardens.

You’d think that she was praying

Down there on her knees

Paying close attention

To everything she sees

Her fingers busy scrabbling

Among the plants and dirt

And she spends so long bowed over

You know her back must hurt!

But you know that it’s all worth it

When you see her gardens bloom

And the flowers shine so brightly

They’d banish any gloom

And all the scents and perfumes

That waft up in the air

You’d think that Ann’s created

A piece of Heaven there!

She has always had a garden

No matter where she goes,

She’s always planting something

And tending Father’s rose.

And when her labour’s over

She loves to go and see

The result of all her endeavours 

With an evening G and T.

I think this is how Ann worships

Creating beauty for the eyes

And whatever prayers she mutters

Must surely reach up to the skies

And she blends these lovely perfumes

Without Frankincense or Myrrh

I’m sure the God of all the Gardens

Must be so well pleased with her.

Copyright © Res Burman 25th July 2020