I see the child
in the garden, her head
filled with the wind,
and her eyes in the summer of children
bright as the sun;
I hear her laugh
in the garden, her mind
swallowed in dreams,
and her mouth in the learning of children
full of the sun.
I watch her dance
in the garden, her face
determined and lent,
and her limbs like the gallows of children
crossed in the sun
I love the child
in the garden, a voice
that I once knew,
and remember the growing of children
lost in the sun.
by my late husband ALEX written in the 70's
