Weeds Bent over her garden of topiary perfection weeding away what grows without permission pruning back what strays outside the lines hat blocking out undesirable sun that’s how I found her Each day I walked past silently dared her to reach through whitewashed pickets that fenced our years call my name give me a reason to forgive perhaps if I saw regret or even hesitation in that smile of satisfaction each time she tore roots from earth Senility blessed her with forgetfulness of driving rain cold long ago warehouse telling me young and frightened go inside let someone weed her grandson out of me Now my son researches a cure for cancer speaks on BBC smiles from magazine covers blooms The last time I walked past she called out frail childlike Here, lady – here – I’ll give you my best one across the fence proudly handed me a rose meticulous and manicured Leaning close I saw empty eyes heard her small voice hollow and broken felt something finish whispered back You already did. ©Carla Martin-Wood