Arts
Poems in a High Walled Garden She sips her lemon teaWithin a high walled garden,Beneath a perfect square of sky,Broken by erratic clouds, And sliding gulls;While all around,In, peaceful riot, The colours take their chance,As shadows steal,Across the grass,Shrinking, squeezing,Pressing out the flowers from her space;And throughout,Despite the darkness carving out the light,She makes the most of every hue,Of every scent, of every sense,As single lines are drawn up,From deep within a hidden well,And linked together in endless chains,To lift her far beyond this place;She raises sonnets from a page,Holding them gently in her hands,Before releasing them,To fly and soar beyond her sight;These pictures grow and fill the void,Her garden never dies,Never falls to winter,The high walled garden becomes her paradise, A refuge, where her four score years and four Give way to the reality of her mind,Where roams a woman,In the height of summer.