Comments about Sharlene Zeederberg
Taken from us far too soon,
The gardener’s time has come.
And we are left standing in her wake
Confused, aghast and numb.
Winter sits heavily on the garden. All is quiet and stark.
Autumn’s leaves gather in wet soggy piles
And bulbs lie in tombs of dark.
Everything was planted, waiting for the spring,
But where is the gardener now, to welcome them in?
And the rain falls
The rain falls
A little bud appears today
It is green and bright with life
Poking its head through its sandy bed
Growth abundantly rife