Memory guides Drusilla
To this place, no
other;
Through rainy winter
darkness,
Eyes blind in
recollection.
Roses grow sweetly
here-
Drusilla planted them
With her own hands,
Fragrant in the sun.
Clove pinks and iris
Are over here,
Beneath the iron faun
With his silent pipes.
Primroses line the
paths
Rain falling from stiff
petals
Orange, pink, and
yellow.
Purple, red, and gold.
Papa and grandmummy
Take tea upon the stone
bench
Beneath the spreading
beech tree
In languid summer
grace.
William, her shy
cousin,
Whom Drusilla adores,
Sleeves rolled up, arms
bared
Digs a hole for lilacs.
Baby Edith coos in the
sunlight,
The rain of early
summer
Sparkles, drying on the
grass,
Dampening her white
lace pinafore.
Happily, Drusilla
gardens,
Fingers bleeding
Where asphalt crushes
And sleeping cars stare
blindly.