Dear Lucy, It Is Summer

...and now it is eight months since our hearts were suddenly broken,

never to be the same again!

Dear Lucy, how we miss you!

The honeysuckle vine you gave is gilt with clusters, pink...

The breeze chases a winsome wave that rolls through wheat fields, gold...

The lily and the hollyhock lure honey bees to drink...

And everywhere we look earth gleams with beauty to behold

Summer has much on offer to rekindle awe and praise

The garden like a coffer brimming with the fruit of dreams

The countryside, a work of art entitled Summer Days...

Dear Lucy

The honeysuckle vine you gave is gilt with clusters, pink

The breeze chases a winsome wave that rolls through wheat fields, gold

The lily and the hollyhock lure honey bees to drink

And everywhere we look earth gleams with beauty to behold

Summer has much on offer to rekindle awe and praise

The garden like a coffer brimming with the fruit of dreams

The countryside, a work of art entitled Summer Days

(where joy and sorrow rush the heart in conflicting extremes)  

Sometimes, when missing you ignites fresh, sudden pangs of grief

I count the ways I loved you, sister dear, and love you more 

Then, from a world of yesterdays, descends divine relief

Love's symphony of echoes plays a tender repertoire 

The memories I have of you are like a garden path

Traced and retraced, soft woven through with threads I cannot touch

They gently bind the isles Thought trods to Laughter's Aftermath

Of Summers where we oohed and a-ahed, and talked and walked and such

....while watching our children grow too fast; they always do

While weathering the ebb and flow of tides that stole our youth

While planting flow'rs in trouble's dirt like our mother did too

While learning from parental hurt, lessons of timeless truth 

What I would give to hear you sigh or exclaim with delight  

Over something that caught your eye while your heart skipped a beat

A field full of wild flowers, purple, yellow, red and white (we were out on a sister's day)

Or twilight's tranquil bowers, or a yummy fresh-baked treat 

No, summer has not changed its ways, it still burgeons with bliss

And never ceases to amaze on both good days and bad 

The sky is blue; the lake is too, but, oh, in spite of this 

Somehow sweet summer without you just isn't quite as glad 

Janet Martin 

The memories I have of you are like a garden path

Traced and retraced, soft woven through with threads I cannot touch...

This year I planted a little flower garden in my vegetable garden...

A place to work, and let the therapy of flowers comfort me.

A place to sit to pray, read and remember Lucy, as well as my parents,

my other three sisters and their spouses,

my five brothers and their spouses

And of course her husband and children

We, as a family, all share in this deep grief of missing Lucy..

I hope in August when more flowers bloom, 

and you also would love a quiet moment of reflection and remembering Lucy,

you know you are welcome to drop by my garden too 💛🙏 

In the Garden