The Garden and the Oleander Poem.

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It is now seven years since we bought the Oleander (above in the center) in a pot from London, it had belonged to my mother. We were advised that it would not survive in the salt sea winds. Even Digit on Sussex Radio said it would be best send it back to London to someone we know and to visit.

Luckily it has been happy to have a home in the greenhouse, where I am sure my mother’s spirit may still wander.

 The Oleander

 We found it in Albi,

no gentle sketch

but boldly painted

bright and blowzy

heady with scent,

out for a good time.

In London,

loving the culture

pink petals

flirted with passers-by

revelled in attention

posed for pictures.

Uprooted to Brighton

in a white fleece shroud

it faltered

leaves fell

naked boughs mourned

sensing life had passed.

Two years later

in a new pot

on a south facing wall

tiny green shoots emerge,

pink blossoms

show their party faces.

This is an older poem but I still have affection for it. I just couldn’t get it to copy and paste into single spacing so looked better centered. I might conquer wordpress . . .  one day!

This entry was posted in Ann's memoir, Brighton - out and about, Cheer yourself up, Finding my feet in Brighton, Nature - birds, flowers, sea or country, Poetry - Creative Writing, Retiring to Brighton - ups and downs and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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