Abandoned Garden
janine canan
In front we planted purple periwinkle stars.
Under lacy heavenly bamboo
they sprawled around two towering pines.
Over the fence gushed escallonia's rosy blooms.
Then the hillside steeply declined --
along the steps cheery marguerites,
shy coral bells you planted on your knees,
then ruffled, puffed-up, proud red rhodies.
In the corner anemones floated their clouds of silk;
in the flower box, fluorescent pink and fiery red,
madly muttering impatiens
I watered with my tears.
By the pale blue door azaleas bled
onto the silent horrified rose.
Near the hostile mailbox the maiden dogwood
never dared bloom her tender pink.
The infected maple struggled to spread her roots.
On the meadow wildflowers multiplied
in a thick green carpet where we might have lain,
tucked in each other's blossoming hearts.
