It had to go when I wanted the lawn 
ripped out. My hayfever causing me 
to neglect your garden. With the grass 
monoculture gone, I laid gravel, 
creating calming waves of stone. 
Green not entirely banished. The flowerbed 
now has my favoured irises, tulips, cyclamen. 
The borders pear and apple trees, holly, 
jasmine, climbing hydrangea, clematis, 
primroses, Californian poppies, a rose.
Tubs have dwarf cherries, blueberries, 
white camelia, pink hibiscus.

You’d hate it. Your garden needed
a neat lawn, raised beds for vegetables,
some bedding plants for colour.
Space you could lose yourself 
for hours to take out a bad mood
stabbing at soil, tearing out weeds.
You pictured outdoor dining,
forgetting about insects and hayfever.
Your ashes now lie among the roots
of an oak tree. It’s no longer your garden.

But the neighbour’s plum dropped
a fruit that decomposed its seed,
that got buried in soil removed
to flatten the ground for the gravel.
Sunned, left to grow, I took its fruit
for a crumble, your favourite dessert.






About the Author:

Emma Lee’s publications include “The Significance of a Dress” (Arachne, 2020) and “Ghosts in the Desert” (IDP, 2015). She co-edited “Over Land, Over Sea,” (Five Leaves, 2015), reviews for magazines and blogs at https://emmalee1.wordpress.com.

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