Along the path of stepping stones,
Winding through the scented air,
Colors flow in many tones,
From the garden flowers there.
Maidenhair ferns that border the walk,
Grow in the shade of the trees,
And standing tall on a slender stalk,
Poppies sway gently in a breeze.
Blue Ageratum blooming sweet and low,
Larkspurs stand slender and tall,
Trumpet vines twist and steadily grow,
Along the garden wall.
Song birds in the apple tree sing,
Their voices in harmony heard,
And sweet nectar from the flowers bring,
The bees and the humming birds.
Roses grow in the fertile soil,
In many colors bright,
And butterflies on the blossoms toil,
Gathering their nectar delight.
The garden is a tranquil place,
To walk or meditate,
Life seems to move a slower pace,
When you pass through the garden gate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem, Richard. I love to garden and to absorb the beauty. Thanks for sharing