There is an Angel in my garden,
She tends the tubs and pots,
Leaving behind a sign,
In my treasured, forget~me~nots.
She visits in my dreams,
A smile, upon her face,
The change of passing years,
Vanished, without trace.
And then, when I awake,
My Angel sister’s gone,
I gather up all I am,
And my life, trundles on.
Although, I often wonder,
Snipping edges off my dreams,
Is it, wistful imagination,
Or fate’s, unknown schemes.
Then, on stepping in my garden,
Around the tubs and pots,
I see an Angel’s touch,
In her treasured forget~me~nots.
© Copyright 2016 PaulChafer. All rights reserved.
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