A Modest Request

A Modest Request

When I grow old and weary,
legs all atremble,
unable to walk far,

and my garden—

oh, the delightful colors,
the delicate shapes,
the delicious scents—

when my garden 

is too far to see,

then please,

if you will,

please bring my garden

to me.
Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

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