My father loved his garden well,

My mother loved it, too.

All the colors of loveliness

Were in the flowers he grew.

Mother would take my hand and we

Would view the flowery site.

Gladiolas, a stately flower,

Was father’s deepest delight.

As years went by he added others,

Roses, cosmos, too,

Morning Glories, hollyhocks,

Forget-Me-Nots of blue.

He graced the earth with untold beauty

It lingers in my mind;

In growing flowers of my own

It’s shades of him, I find.

Photo from The Tyler Garden

What lies ahead when a year begins?

Only the Lord can know.

Will it be filled with good deeds or sins?

Will it be a chance to grow?

The holy unknown is all in God’s hands

But each has a chance to decide

Whether we want to follow ourself

Or let the Lord be our Guide?

As the year unfolds, day after day,

It’s very easy to see

If we have chosen our God or self

The apple falls close to the tree.