James Walter Orr (02, June,1930 / Amarillo, Texas, U.S.A.)
Alone in my Garden
I stand in the last patch of sunlight
and I glean the last rays of the sun.
The scents of the flowers waft o'er me,
as though they and the sunrays are one.
I see the ghosts of old memories unfolding
in the shadows of each tree and bush,
and they touch me with nostalgic fingers
and my memories come back with a rush.
I see a face that can rival each flower;
Smell aromas to rival each scent.
I shiver with joy as she touches
where all the old memories are pent.
I remember the vows that she made me
in that time that they call long ago,
and I weep that a woman's so fickle;
and I wonder just where did she go?
She promised undying devotion;
She said at my feet she would kneel.
I just wanted her walking beside me,
and I wish she were walking here still.
She said forever was only one chapter;
that the future, forever, we'd own,
and I look at this garden around me,
wondering why I am standing alone.
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