Stepping Stones. By Joshua Coetzee.
Stepping stones
Of old forgotten garden paths
Grass long and overgrown
Forgotten and unattended.
Where fairies play
Nymphs hide behind old toadstool
Twisted faun likes to play
In new rains mud pool.
Garden once loved more
Than a day at school.
Wind carries memories of old
Laughter now silent, almost forgotten.
The willow sways in echoing remembrance
Of golden days not reoccurring.
Not as old as her bark
Less than an age.
Stepping stones
Of old forgotten garden paths
That cross the field of man
Once loved but now neglected.
Reflection in falling leaves
Tails of frogs that once had.
Wild and free is the garden
Angry and bitter
Hard to once more tame.
For love removed
Is often never replaced nor consoled
With anything but the former.
Now a memory
As suns rays heat the beauty
Of nights dew.
Now a memory
As honeysuckle
Does such at the dawn.
The red glow of dying leaves
Mixes with the green of spreading weed
And hard thistle.
Nothing more than a truth
Once loved , now merely
Stepping stones of old forgotten garden paths.
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