Previously published in the Licking River Review
In the Garden Believing in the constancy of your love, Just as the blooms of the magnolia return each spring, Even after a long drought that was followed by a desolate, harsh winter. Your love would remain, withstanding any hardship. Believing we were timeless, transcending poor choices, Physical and psychological infirmities, spiritual crisis, I am staid as the blue spruce that refuse to yield its color to the cold. Believing underneath sorrow, something is left, Old growth sustained by deep roots. Years of memories - good and bad - of lives created, love shard, Intricately woven on the trellis of our lives. Believing beyond reason, I am defenseless, defying understanding, like the miracle of new growth, In a garden thought dead. By Melissa Kavanaugh Zapanta
Our Humble Road 