You Stood in the Garden by knittingknots, literature
Literature
You Stood in the Garden
O daughter, dear daughter,
your hair was so red,
you stood in the garden,
but the roses had fled,
yes, the roses had fled
and their petals had blown.
You stood in the garden
so sad and alone.
O daughter, dear daughter,
the sky was so gray
as you stood in the garden
that dark lonely day,
that dark lonely day
in the dress you had sewn.
You stood in the garden
so sad and alone.
O daughter, dear daughter
the letter was white
that you read in the garden
alone, out of sight,
alone, out of sight
when you started to moan.
You stood in the garden
so sad and alone.
O daughter, dear daughter,
your heart grew so black,
when yo
All is quiet. The weather has broken warm for the next two days. I have a window to set the last of the posts on my new shop. Today I poured the footers. They will be hard enough by morning and I can level and set the posts tomorrow. It's not really art, so I'll not post pic.s. But then the economy has been stagnant these past eight years, and I have done little in the way of commissioned art. I hope the new government can get the economy started up. I would be nice to do more art and less craft. Although craft does pay the bills.
It has been too long since I have updated my journal. I have been well. I have not been doing much woodwork of importance. It is not art only craft. We had a big project made of teak. I am allergic to teak so I was banned from the shop. Today I must finish up a matched pare of, how to describe them? one is a radiator cover, the other is a cabinet that looks like a radiator cover, but they match. I was told yesterday that they must be delivered Wednesday. I wish they had told me last week I could have come in over the week end to finish up the wood work.
my dad died about noon today,I knew this was coming, we were as prepared as could be, and it still hurts.
laughter escapes me
only thunder and rain
plastic smiles and
practiced pleasantries
measured words spoken
friends earnest concern
hands reaching and
I turn away
silence echoing
forgotten memories
the wilting flowers
the smell of fresh dug earth