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Nestled in the foothills

of a patchwork mountain plain

you can find her cottage

hidden behind the weeping willow trees.

The gate the only thing left

of a  forgotten picket fence

but the path through the lawn

well worn and remembered

as my mind takes me back to a time

we helped her plant  a special rose bush

on the east side of the cottage.

Now they ramble on endlessly.

The dew still catching every sunrise.

Under the statue fountain

of an angel that cried real tears

we'd rest by the lily pond

sticking in our toes as we giggled

enjoying the days end reflections.

A magnificent creation for you and me

butterflies caught our eyes

colorful wings catching the sunset

as the day flutters by.

I remember.



Bonnita

6/11/03