The gateway to my garden
is the gateway to my soul.
I dwell in it for solace.
Its comfort makes me whole.
Hues of green and gold,
a haven of rustling grass,
winds sighing in my heart
sweep away a painful past.
The gateway to my garden
is the gateway to my spirit.
It brings me love and laughter,
rhyme and verse and lyric.
Oh, restless spirit within me,
walk beside me in this place.
Drink of its tranquil goodness.
Bask in its warm embrace.
The gateway to my garden
is the gateway to my heart.
Only here am I sheltered.
From all anguish I depart.
I have hidden here and wept
tears of agony and pain.
I’ve rested upon its earth;
danced in its soft rain.
The gateway to my garden
is the gateway to my mind.
Here I walk with everything
wondrous, good and kind.
These lanes provide shelter.
These isles bring me peace.
I take pleasure in the arbor.
I caress its every leaf.
The gateway to my garden
is the gateway to my soul.
I dwell in it for solace.
Its comfort makes me whole.
Spring 1999
About Me
- Cheryl Earles
- I inherited the love of music and history from my father and my artistic abilities from my mother. I had a love affair with words from the day I discovered the word Periwinkle - I deemed it the most precious crayon in the box and wouldn’t color with it for fear of destroying its pristine appearance. I cherished every lofty word I came across and used them to create a world that was far, far away from my mundane, every day life in the small town of Bridge City, Texas. The rest can be read under the post titled The Dawning of a Wordsmith. I am also a foodie. Look me up on travelingtines.blogspot.com
