My Nana’s Garden

The tops of the trees, they move the the wind.
They move to the wind, they dance with the wind.
Their leaves are tiny dancers, they tap with each other.
Their movements soft like a feather or fierce like a lion.

Have you see the Willy Wagtail? He is as cheeky as a clown.
He teases me on my walks and hides when I am near.
When I am in my Nana’s garden, I think of all these things.
The dancing leaves, the cheeky clowns and remember everything is a part of me.

I know she is no longer here, but in her garden she is here with me.