We found an old house in the country,

far beyond the clutch of suburban sprawl,

We couldn’t know the house was haunted,

There were no ghostly indications at all;

We were searching for new beginnings,

And thought this must be the one,

In the back was a rusted old swing set,

and oak trees provided shade from the sun;

Our whimsical garden spirit

left offerings by the back screen door,

once it was a small pot of pansies and

Sprigs of rosemary lay out on the floor;

Once when my girl was under the weather,

and sick in bed with a siege of the flu,

By the door I fond some peppermint leaves

Like our spirit knew just what to do;

I boiled the leaves in a tea pot of water

and took them for my sick spouse to breathe,

“Our garden spirit  is at it again,” said she,

as  she inhaled the fresh peppermint leaves,

But a visit from friends changed everything

Our garden spirit became a cantankerous sprite

making unearthly sounds in the hallway,

and terrorizing our friends late that night;

They refused tea and toast that next morning,

Quickly packing their things to go  away;

As they drove off,, the house shook with laughter

and we knew then that we couldn’t stay;

As we began to make plans for departure,

The strong scent of raspberries* filled the air,

I found my wife talking to someone

while I knew that no one was there;

Yes, I know that you really are sorry,”

she said, “And I’m sorry that we have to go–“

“No, I’m sorry that you can’t go with us–”

and the kitchen turned as cold as snow.

*raspberries are for remorse

Sandra Lee Smith

originally posted April 20, 2015

Updated July 27, 2018








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