GoLPoem

For Mrs. Dulcie Evans
January 21, 1900 ~ May 17, 1985
My friend I have known for a decade, my elder quite wiser by far, has gone home now to be with her Saviour, to rest in his love and care.
She left me with thoughts I will treasure, a lesson on life few could teach; she taught me by sharing her garden, when I'd go to her sharing my grief.
She'd chuckle when I'd come crying, about some little thing that I'd do; regretting that it ever happened, she'd say,
"Come see what a garden can do."

We'd walk through the beds of her garden, and pause while she told of her life, pointed to asters, camellias, azaleas, iris and coleus alike.
The fig tree, so grand, she had planted, when she was in the prime of her life, and her peppermint colored camellias, were happiness, joy and delight.
The roses were life's many blessings, her children, grandchildren and friends. The thorns only pricked while growing, but the buds and their fragrance remain, as close as her cross the street neighbor, or the letter she got in the mail, it was the roses that reminded her of the love of her friends and like the roses, they never did fail.

We walked on past the cock's combs and wandering dew, past the mums, where a tear she shed. For it was the mums that brought sadness to her heart, remembering her eldest son, now dead.

She dried off the tears and kept walking, past butterbeans, tomatoes and corn. She said, "This is the fruit of my work that my Lord has laid his hands on."

As we came around past the peach trees and sat down on the swing in her yard, she let out a sigh and grinned lovingly, saying,
"Life really isn't so hard."

I felt as if Jesus himself planted new seeds to grow inside my heart, all by knowing this dear special person and the way that her garden got its start.
I'll remember her always and forever; I'll watch every flower, tree and shrub. For in it I'll remember her garden, and the days she spent sharing her love.
~1985