As many people know, I love to garden and find great comfort in digging in the soil; in planting and watching new life form. I learned this love from my mother, who now due to Alzheimer's Disease has lost her ability to enjoy her lifelong love, gardening. It is for her that I wrote the poem. It was one of the last times I saw her in the garden and enjoying herself.




The steady gentle hands which I once held are now wrinkled.
Small walnut coloured spots from the sun lay as a map to former years.
F...
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