She woke humming a tune, it must have been blues for there were tears in her eyes and few things moved her to tears like the songs her mother used to sing without category. No. It wasn’t quite soul, for how could she truthfully sing soul, when her own had escaped long ago.

“What a fool she must be, to love someone who doesn’t love she’, this she repeated with scorn. How could she have dared condense her love into one subject when it was her art to love the world?

At the window she looked out across the garden which she had painstakingly cleared, where the bind weeds had tried to swallow her up and a neighbour’s dog had left booby traps of odorous sludge. He had laughed and called it “ugly”, but she had answered calmly that sometimes beginnings were exactly that way.

Fooled she had been, mistaking quite groans for confirmation of love. “The sun won’t shine in your garden when I’m gone”, he had said pulling himself away.

“Then I’ll have to learn to paint in darkness; get acquainted with the shade.” Last night I was a princess…today you think, I’m just nothing…

I will make the earth the exact same shade as you in remembrance, and as I work I will sing “What a prisoner he must be to not love someone as free as me”.

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One Response to “The Sun Won’t Shine in Your Garden”

  1. Jodie Wells says:

    How lovely is your story. So much beauty condensed into so few words. I am in awe chicky babe and so honoured to know someone as talented as you. Jodie

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