Forgotten in the garden
Rusty dented .. losing paint
I sit atop an ancient wall
Prim, proper old and quaint
I used to be a beauty
Impervious to wind and rain
Time has had its way with me
Oxidized, aged ~ no longer vain
They say I have patina
Verdigris color so rare
Oxidized yes, but never weak
Essence still as pure as air
Fill me with water
Remove me from this wall
Let me play among the flowers
'til summer turns to fall
Then put me on a shelf inside
Keep me safe and dry
Polish, pamper, oil my joints
I've flowers to tend before I die
Rusty dented .. losing paint
I sit atop an ancient wall
Prim, proper old and quaint
I used to be a beauty
Impervious to wind and rain
Time has had its way with me
Oxidized, aged ~ no longer vain
They say I have patina
Verdigris color so rare
Oxidized yes, but never weak
Essence still as pure as air
Fill me with water
Remove me from this wall
Let me play among the flowers
'til summer turns to fall
Then put me on a shelf inside
Keep me safe and dry
Polish, pamper, oil my joints
I've flowers to tend before I die
Wonderful poem. It fits both us elderly folk and the forgotten garden pots. Great rhyme scheme!
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteIt is a lovely poem about aging in general... We all oxidize somehow and thus the more we value being sheltered inside and pampered. Yes, we all look forward to more flowers, more springs of LIFE!
Hugs,
Mariette
Awwww... yes, wonderful, oxidized to the point of gorgeous verdigris. Love the rhymes in here, and, ah just love it in general!
ReplyDeleteIt's cool how you wrote from the perspective of a watering can! I've never read anything quite like this.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy giving inanimate objects life ... always have.
DeleteI think a little verdigris only make it more desirable... but it has to be able to hold water
ReplyDeleteHow many beauties have been left to rust and dent in a garden, ‘prim, proper old and quaint’? This is a wonderful poem, Helen, an ode to all the oxidized and aged. I especially like the plea to:
ReplyDelete‘…put me on a shelf inside
Keep me safe and dry
Polish, pamper, oil my joints
More flowers to tend before I die’.
Such a tender poem - I hope you will bloom
ReplyDeleteI'm with Bjorn. The verdigris just adds to its charm.
ReplyDeleteI used to have an old watering can like that, that I had good memories of lugging around when I was small, "helping" my parents do the gardening. Then my son's half brother found it in the garage, deemed it worthless, and banged holes in it with something. I was really upset with him.
ReplyDeleteI love this Helen. As I grow older, I have come to appreciate the imperfections in not only old objects, but in myself as well. As we age,I think our edges soften too.
ReplyDelete"I have patina" that is how I am going to describe the strands of silver that run through my hair. I'm not getting older... just more precious!
ReplyDeleteOld water buckets never get so tired that they are unable to work. You found a pretty one for illustration. Mine is a green plastic full sized operating replica of the oblong brass ones. I use it every few days to water my Aloe Vera and another plant which share a large pot. The Aloe Vera is ancient, my MIL died in 2007 and she had it in her window sill as long as I could remember.
ReplyDeleteThe pot I use looks ancient and has patina yes, but no verdigris color or pretty oxidization. Some black stuff, yes.
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Great metaphor! Enjoyed (and connected) with this way too much-
ReplyDeleteOh, I love this. Lately with my bum knee I am feeling a lot like that garden pot. I still have growth in me. :)
ReplyDeleteThis is excellent, so fanciful. We all want to grow more flowers.
ReplyDelete