Memory guides Drusilla
To this place, no other;
Through rainy winter darkness,
Eyes blind in recollection.

Roses grow sweetly here-
Drusilla planted them
With her own hands,
Fragrant in the sun.

Clove pinks and iris
Are over here,
Beneath the iron faun
With his silent pipes.

Primroses line the paths
Rain falling from stiff petals
Orange, pink, and yellow.
Purple, red, and gold.

Papa and grandmummy
Take tea upon the stone bench
Beneath the spreading beech tree
In languid summer grace.

William, her shy cousin,
Whom Drusilla adores,
Sleeves rolled up, arms bared
Digs a hole for lilacs.

Baby Edith coos in the sunlight,
The rain of early summer
Sparkles, drying on the grass,
Dampening her white lace pinafore.

Happily, Drusilla gardens,
Fingers bleeding
Where asphalt crushes
And sleeping cars stare blindly.