In the corner of his garden, there’s a patch he used to keep
All to himself, to allow nature to creep
There are no trimmed edges
or prim, proper hedges
He left his earth still and alone
Allowed the forces of nature to roam
He said that you don’t always have to be tidy and neat
Just watch the beauty of opportunity grow at your feet
He said just watch the earth produce its own glory
And I watched…and held on to his story
My granddad was right
Add water and light
Behold the sight
There are poppies and flowering weeds
Buttercups and oat coloured reeds
Daisies gingerly lift their heads
Dandelions roar from muddy beds
Purple thistles and strange grasses
Colours that alight and ignite masses
Dark ferns and heathers
Dandelion clock feathers
Birds foot trefoil, a four leafed clover
My granddad’s story is not over
He may have gone, I may have cried
But the beauty he predicted never died
~Melanie Waters
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth. ~Psalm 57:5 ✝
**photos via Pinterest
Sacred Touches 
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What a beautiful remembrance of your grandfather. I love wild flowers, just the way nature intended. :o)
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I’m glad you enjoyed the post; I too love wildflowers. Blessings, Natalie 🙂
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That’s the comforting glory—those we love may be gone but there are always small reminders, all around, waiting to wrap their arms around us just when we need to be “wrapped up” 🙂
A beautiful hug to your grandfather—
Love to you—cookie
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Alas, this wasn’t about my grandfather but the one that belonged to the lady who wrote the poem. Mine was a lovely man who I adored according to mom, but he died when I was just a toddler. I did cherish his photos and the stories about him though. Love, N
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see, even though I read her name, I still felt you were reflecting about your own—I never knew one of mine and the other died when I was 7—I do feel cheated in that regard as grandfathers are said to be most special—
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You were not along. Another reader did the same thing earlier today. My grandfather died when I was about the same age and my dad died when I was 17. So I too feel cheated and wish it hadn’t been so to this day. XOXOXOXO 🙂
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Beautiful writing and memories.
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I’m glad you enjoyed the poem by Melanie. Her memories of her granddad were precious! Blessings, Natalie 🙂
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What a beautiful way to remember one’s grandfather, Natalie. Though I see from the comments this is not your own grandfather. My grandfather died when I was fourteen and I still cherish hugely fond memories of him. Grandparents are very special people. Thank you for posting this, my friend. ~ Amelia 🙂
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My grandfather died when I was very young, but I used love the stories that were told about him. Hugs, N
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet and commented:
Come Enjoy Natalie’s Archives – R.I.P. Sweet Natalie.!
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