When Dad was alive he worked hard and enjoyed gardening .

With flowering hanging baskets he created a theme .

In the garden my Father always had something in flower .

He beautified areas using bush rock and colour .

The shape of each stone was studied and slotted into place .

Dad loved landscaping ,
every thing had its own special space.

Around the bush rocks and in cracks it flowers every year .

Since he died ,magically ,
new flowers just seem to appear .

Hollyhock around the bush rock are vivid red and pink.

It’s just like he’s still there, sometimes it makes me stop to think.

With the seasons that come and go I see my Father there,

Without any effort , its almost like he wants to share ,

a selection of wild flowers that’s he’s scattered about.

They’re a colourful part of life that’s been set into grout .


By Paul McCann