Stories That Get Told

I should see you walk in from our garden
The sun a soporific on your shoulder blades
And you should kick your shoes off at the door
And mark me with the pollen on your finger tips

Instead December brought the pouring rain
The whimsy of the season
Dampened by the day
And sometimes changes is incremental
To the point we can convince ourselves
We’re still the same

But as the street lights flicker on
Under skin and bone
We’re all awash
With something borrowed
And everything I want
Is at rest between these walls

Someday we’ll all be
Stories that get told
But told incorrectly
But our trail won’t grow cold

So now we watch you walking in our garden
And what a many splendoured sight you are to see
And there’ll be dancing
There’ll be scars
But you’re my garden
You’re my garden
You were grown from me

So when you leap
You must leap longingly
And leap across
The length and breadth
Of legacy
For in this garden
We will write for you
A story you will learn by heart
Then long to leave