Forgotten Day Poem by Mary Champion

That cruel twist of fate laid waste your mind.
It stole your treasured words, robbed you of speech,
but even in its shadow you could find
small, passing pleasures that it could not reach.

Late springtime: in the rolling Sussex Weald
someone's dream of rural idyll lay,
and ev'ry corner that we turned revealed
one more divine delight to boost your day.

You stood entranced by Arts and Crafts designs -
exquisite pots of ev'ry shape and size.
The beauty and the grace of simple lines
induced enchanted smiles that lit your eyes.

And, finally the gardens - at their best
with flowers fresh and bright and newly bloomed.
Then on this rustic gate you leaned to rest
at peace until the mem'ries were consumed.