In the quiet garden

Down the slanting, new laid garden path

I saw the young wood pigeon in the bath.

We rarely went down there in recent years

The bird was not afraid, he stood and stared.

Then having splashed in joy, he flew away.

I miss my quiet garden and its peace.

My heart is overflowing with this gried

What’s the point of living, keeping safe?

When we shall no more feel love’s sweet embrace.

I welcome comments and criticism

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