There is a garden at home, my Mum’s garden

was never designed to impress with grandeur

nor would it have won any awards, but to us

this patch of earth is the most extraordinary place

in the world, the prettiest garden in existence

because it is where her spirit lives, in its vibrant

blooms, its trees, and its whispers of nature

She spent countless hours tending to her garden

as if it was her dear friend, she poured her soul

into its soil, she nurtured the earth with the same

tenderness, patience, and devotion, that mirrored

the love she shared with those around her

every petal that unfurled, every leaf that danced

in the breeze, bore witness to her cheerful spirit

And then, on that fateful day, she was gone

so unexpectedly, so suddenly, so quietly

returning home without her felt impossible

but her garden called to me, in the dark

in the cold air, in the stillness, I sat there for hours

in that moment, I felt her, in a miraculous closeness

as if she was right beside me, she was still alive

Ever since that day, her garden has been more

than just a collection of flowers and plants

it has become my sanctuary, where her love still

grows, rowdy, beautiful, and eternal, where

heaven and earth shake hands, but this little Eden

still hers, after all, I am just its grateful guest

her garden is alive, and oh, how alive she remains