Some Little Thoughts
by Raymonde Sacklyn
The Garden
Ah, years! Thieves of my youth!
Gone are the pleasures of yesteryear
And, in their place, here I stand,
Infirm, on legs not nearly as strong
As when life was new, the exciting time,
But when cravings blinded one from the truth.
My garden, not yet fully in bloom,
Flora and fauna, taking root, with honeysuckles,
Seeking the very heart of life, deep beneath the sod.
Life’s garden, too quickly is gone:
The seasons change and sun’s warmth grows cool,
Replaced by wintry winds: Oh! Too, too soon!
Sing a lullaby for olden days; for yesteryear!
Sing a song for youth!
Cry for lost moments, forever gone!
Mourn the passing of a single moon!
Yearn for the vigour of days of yore!
But keep love close by: Keep it very, very dear!
The sweetness of honey, unlike all else before.
The gentleness of a lover’s touch.
A tear, shed in anguish at a parting
And, then, the ecstasy: Exquisite culmination!
All this I still remember.
I cry! Alas! No more!
