Your Garden

Your garden
had roses,
some orchids,
white jasmines
and thick shrubs
of santan.

My childhood
spent time there --
plucked some buds,
played with bees,
bathed in
lighter rains,
suntanned in
gentler heats.

Days have aged
quite too soon;
Years have passed
quite uncouth.

Now, grasses
squatted on
bare patches.
The flowers,
they're all gone.

And you, sir
of poor sight,
thinner skin,
weaker knees,
tend the earth
growing rocks.