Garden Tales | Poetry

For my cousin, Raina.

Long ago, on a warm summer day -
We embarked on a fantasy ride;
We sniffed the flowering wild daisies -
Strolled along the sylvan wayside.        

We unlocked the kingdom of Narnia, 
Found the embellished rusty key,
The garden was no longer a secret;
It stood long waiting for you and me.

We sat by the blooming rose-briars,
Smelled the fragrance in the crisp air,
We lay on a carpet of strewn petals - 
Savoring moments so precious 'n rare.

Geraniums wreathed the archways,
The red-breasted robin sang in glee,
We devoured the sweetest potion -
Concocted by a nimble-feet faerie.
        
Weeping willows kissed the river;
Phlox-umbels rose from the earth;
Pixies sprang out of laurel bushes -
Playing trumpets of festal mirth. 

We painted pictures of foxgloves;
Wore bowers of roses as a crown;
We buried our faces in peonies -
Glided around in a floral gown.
       
We freed our souls of all troubles;
Endless worries there were none;
Our burnt bronzed 'n happy faces -
Basked in the warmth of the sun.

We rolled on the verdant grass green
Our spirits were soaring and free;
We were greeted by Mr. Moon-Face -
Under the magical Faraway tree.

The painted pictures of childhood,
Floated before our child-like eyes,
Of gilded swords 'n crooked manor -
Chivalrous knights 'n druids wise.

Forever, our happy little corner -
Of merry 'n myriad fantasies;
Tied in bundles of deep secrets -
Far from drudging realities.
      

Cover Source: Mottisfont Garden

© Copyright: Leah Chrestien. February 2022.  The post Garden Tales | Poetry first appeared on The Ecstatic Storyteller. The author reserves the right to the content. No reproduction of content in any form is permitted without the prior consent of the author.