delicate days

Isabel...

I am lost

it was a delicate day

when I last sat before you

in praise of your ease

and beauty

my troubles then 

laid thick upon my spine,

my hurt had gathered

heavy in my heart

I had one direction

and the end was set into

Time's forward march,

there would be no undoing

but wayward travels 

led me to your gardens

and I found myself there

where poets dream of 

dreaming

you moved me...

I was calm, I was focused

and clarity began to thrive,

you saved me from myself.

the years have gone by,

I am troubled once again

now mired with uncertainty

and the fragile heart of

love

you are nowhere near,

so I return to you in a 

memory as lucid and true

as the day I sat before you

I look upon you 

gazing at the flowers in 

your garden, so peaceful

so content... and again its 

you that moves me

I seek once more 

the calmness, the focus

the clarity you can provide

with such ease, such beauty

I am lost Isabel...

the heart that exists in this

aching love is so fragile...

these are such delicate 

days

("Isabel" by Betty Branch at Brookgreen Gardens)