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She’s only 91
With her earthquake cracks
The occasional rat
Wood windows leak
Doors open in the summer
Hardwood floors swell in the winter
Or is it the opposite
No matter
So much charm
It makes my heart swell too
But it’s the garden
That will break my heart to leave
Speaking of leaves
The rugged Pear tree
Drops it’s red and gold leaves
With a flourish
Come Winter
They are come play with me leaves
In Spring
Delicate white petals
Slowly swirl to the ground
Pretending to be rain
In the Santana wind
There are 4 camellias
Pink, white and peppermint

Ficus
Oleander
Bottlebrush
Palms
And
Bamboo
Ancient roses
That look on their last leg
Yet produce a fragrance
Like olive oil in a hot pan
It seeps into your pores
Making you dizzy for just a moment
Thousands of seeds and hundreds of bulbs some planted some volunteered
Some appear some don’t
But come they will
In the oddest places
All of this will be lost
When
This OG home is sold
Ripped from the ground
Replaced with plants
That will be replaced on a regular
Basis.
I’ll take what I can
Say a prayer for what I can not
Remember them as my dearest friends
My confidants
My family
So much joy from so much chaos
I’ll carry the tradition elsewhere
Where I do not know
But
A patch of neglected dirt
Awaits
My love.

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