No windowsill for robin’s company
No hum of bees for distraction
No whistle of wind, no taste in mouth
No scent of trees to breathe and caress
Draw the drapes; I like a dark house
I want that calm that comes with forgetting
I want that sorrow that comes with remembrance
Close them, and let me see
Close them, and let me hear again
The hum of a rushing river
The feel of a tender kiss
The warmth of beating sunshine
The chaos of things amiss
Now nothing’s amiss
All is as it should be for one such as me
Left alone to notice all that the world has cast out
Radiators, windowsills, a lonely jug of water
Who will tend the garden now?
Who will tend the garden?