Last night there was frost,
And today the moving van ramp slants across the chilly earth;
Hard times for a lady who loves her garden.
Last night the moon was full,
And today I trail vague dreams around the emptying rooms;
Missing already the touches and scents of my home.
I make a very poor gypsy,
Even more so because
You won't be coming with me.
I hate to leave my garden, and your memory ever blessed--
Annuals are pretty,
But it's perennials I love best.