-Maggs Vibo

A child’s garden

In a corner of my father’s garden,
On a patch the size of a cookie pan,

My first garden was all marigolds,
Started in school milk cartons.

They were short & stumpy,
& I loved them more

Than the roses & lilacs
& the towering tomatoes

Who flaunted themselves.

I laid out a stone path
I was sure would suffice

For when the sprites I knew
From my dreams

Came to admire my marigolds.

When the cold settled in for good,
& the last tomato had been picked,

When the beautiful roses had failed,
My marigolds, their mild luster lost,

Crumbled away as if they alone
Simply had better places to be.

-Elizabeth Moura