Happy Mother’s Day to the best mummy I could ever have. She’s been by my side through the best times in my life and supported me through the worse (I don’t know what I would have done without her during last year; she helped me get through an incredibly painful period of my life and come out strong and smiling on the other side. She’s encouraged me at my best, seen me at my worst and puts up with my general oddness. I love you very very much Mum. This is a poem about my mum’s garden, her pride and joy and what I’ve always looked at as an outward projection of the beautiful soul inside.
She paints pictures with the seeds she sows,
and her little garden blooms and grows.
Snapdragons dance in the gentle breeze
as blossom drifts from ancient apple trees.
Red hot pokers burn away
in the sunshine of the Summer’s day.
Clinging from cracks in the mossy wall,
campanulas cascade like a waterfall.
She is an artist of the land
and makes use of anything to hand;
succulents thrive in broken pots
and an old sink blooms with forget me nots.
A stepladder acts as a planter rack
and alliums poke out of a chimney stack.
The clematis spirals happily,
weaving through the trellis like a tapestry.
The air thick with the scent of peonies
and the harmonious hum of bumblebees.
With each touch of her gardening glove
she brings forth colour, bright with love.
With her hands and heart she made it all;
a beautiful garden from a beautiful soul.
©️ Eleanor Wallace 2022
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