In the Garden, Pt. 2.

Why do I think of swimming,
when I'm in my garden?
And toy soldiers?
And The Lord of the Rings?

I think of my mother,
which is right, and my sister
and all that is gone.

I think of my childhood,
trailing fingers in the dirt,
of lying on my back,
staring at the clouds.

Wishing my wife would join me,
and here she is, with a cheerful,
"Watcha doin'?"

What more could I want?
Except all were here to enjoy it
with me,
my younger self,
my gardening mother,
my sister so full of life,
and wishing it came earlier,
and glad it came at all.