Gray Garden March 24, 2017Posted by vsap in Blogroll, Poetry, Uncategorized.
There is Gray Garden in center of the park.
I don’t know how it got its name, it has vibrant colors;
and young lovers like to linger there after dark.
It’s small pool shimmers with silver dollars
laying randomly at its bottom, almost sacred.
I imagined there was a Helen or Henry Gray,
renowned botanists or mayors being venerated
but locals shake their heads not knowing what to say.
Maybe it began with Dusty Millers or Silver Cascades
then some gardener in the forties, during distraction of war,
introduced lilies, or hydrangeas, flowers needing no shade,
and the next gardener found it easy to care for, no chore;
as our Veterans returned to a beautiful place
they noticed a change and agreed it was for the best.
Spending days with their girls walking past or stopping to embrace
and less often taking to the concrete bench for a moment of rest.
The grass is thick and dense even til this day
and even though the surrounding neighborhood deteriorated;
and even though the garden isn’t gray
It will never wilt dull nor will the colors ever become faded.