my grandmother’s garden is filled with the laughter of a lost dream
when you walk inside you are met with the warmth of a storm that has passed
and it smells faintly of all that went wrong

there is a flower that grows in the depths of her garden
one that encapsulates the wishes of a child long bloomed
it grows tall still
withstanding all the time that has passed

we once played long and far in her garden
we picked up her hydrangeas and brought them to the sea
almost as a gift
and we watched as the sea took them and swallowed them whole

the sun always peeked through her garden
and seemed to lift us off our feet
we flew distant and wide
even to where the snow meets the sea

but before long
the sun whispered in our ears
“you aren’t really here”
and the flowers seemed to wilt

my grandmother’s garden is filled with the lost dreams of our laughter
and we danced there once 
under the cover of a warm storm once passed
before it ended

we are awakened with the clap of thunder
the one we always hid from
and remembered all there was
in my grandmother’s garden