A new spring in a new city, the ground is cold, drab and dark now

But soon the bright grass will return to the garden I now behold.

As I stand at the strange window that is not yet familiar,

I am aware of how many times I have changed this view before.

Different cities, different apartments, different people,

Different seasons, celebrations and sights under the same sky.

Everything changes; friendships end, people die and the earth grows dark,

But, ye budding trees, I am not alone fore he wanders with me,

Dear husband, you have never left my side, my arms, my gaze or my thoughts.

 

We left home to find a better life and now I cannot return.

The silos, no longer used by the trains were removed long ago,

The big maple reaching over the aging oak fence in the back,

To hide my summer games and innocence from the open sky,

Was ripped from the earth and the static canvas that used to be

My bedroom window, while I packed the things I still wanted to own

And left the land in a state existing in memory alone.

You, dearest love, can peer out the window and see what I see now,

But neither you, nor anyone else, can see that which I miss.

 

The second spring with our south facing aperture, you took me as

I was, for better or for worse, you took me as your loving wife.

Some day we will find a house to make our home, we will plant daisies,

Daffodils, lilacs, vegetables and a maple to call our own.

Our daughters will grow as beautiful as our flowers and our sons

Will be strong and tall like our maple, filled with the sweet nectar

Of two bloods brought together in one by true love’s embrace.

I will stand at my cherished window, new to us but old for the

Children, and watch our family play in the garden that we built.