This poem is included in an article I wrote for Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry (https://phoebemd.com/2020/03/16/alzheimers-grieving-the-loss-of-my-mother/).
The article is based on my poetry podcast Grief: Fire and Ice (https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/grief-fire-and-ice/).
A garden once planted in spring,
bearing life in shade and sun,
is now tangled with weeds and blight.
A hearty yield once sustained by dew and noon rains,
now forgets in autumn light.
Baskets of Gold, having bloomed and stretched for sun,
now shrivel, scorched by drought.
Honeysuckle, a trespasser in flora
that once nurtured monarchs and bees.
Wisdom of soils and seedlings,
now crumbles to dust.
Once a bounty of bliss, now wild bramble
on depleted soil.
Her secret garden.
©2020 Barbara Harris Leonhard (Revision of The Garden of Thoughts)
firstname.lastname@example.org (Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)
Images: my end of summer garden
Revised from A Garden of Thoughts