The Changes Of The Garden Poem by RIC BASTASA

was it the time? or was it us?
or was it change itself that keeps on wriggling
through history like a worm
or like a cocoon finally getting into a short-lived butterfly?

i remember green grass and blooming roses here.
there was a pool of goldfish and water lilies.

now when i come back
everything is gravel and rocks and trees without leaves

the clouds are heavy and gray
and the roots are foul and rotten

shall this be a stage of change? shall this be just temporary?
do you water all these with tears?
the winds have turned into
sobs?

shall i believe you? shall i pretend that this garden is still livable?
when shall be start changing the change?

i will sit here and wait for you.