Garden of Serenity

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In a garden not so far away
A couple sat and talked about many things
She shared her dreams he shared his stories
Enjoying each other’s company

What could have been or what may yet be,
Answers they’re not privy to see
They may not see, they cannot wait
Only live to fight another day

A smile to say all will be alright
A nod full of acknowledgement
Words unspoken but understood
They sit and reflect and contemplate
A moment of pause from reality

Agreeing to visit the place again
They part ways with truest warm embrace
Another time to meet again
Till next time to repeat again

To what end? Tis yet unknown
This much is true, they can so meet
To sit, sort, think and silently communicate
Together in a garden of serenity

***We all have a place we go. Inside our heads, within our dreams. Whatever garden you find yourself in, it’s your place to sit and feel.

I haven’t written in quite a while. This is my first attempt to gut it out since last year. This is one of a few poems I hope to share here in the coming days. There’s a lot inside my head. Writing it down proves cathartic.

Maybe it’ll all disappear someday. Who knows, maybe I’ll publish a collection in a book someday. Till then I’ll find my garden where I sit and ponder, a safe place to lose myself.

© Alan Zaugg 2021

My Sycamore Tree

I sit beneath my grand sycamore tree
Her majestic arms encircling me
She holds me close yet sets me free
While I sit upon her root shaped chair
We share lovely stories and sing happy tunes
The fragrance of spring swirls ‘neath her strong bows
A breath of tulips, buttercups and lilies

I lay on the blankets of soft meadow grasses
A warm summer breeze brushes my skin
My sycamore she sings to me
Melodies of love and serenity
She sees me for just what I am
For what I could be, not what I once was
She accepts me in spite of my many follies

My lady, she wonders why waste my time?
What beauty I see in my sycamore tree?
Ax in her hand, she asks me to move
So she can cut down and remove it from view
A fist to the air, she makes such a scene
She curses the tree for noticing me
For treating me kindly and holding me close

I wish she would see the value in me
To see and to hold me, to want all of me
That’s all I ask, to join me a while
And hold me beneath the branches of my tree
Together to share in warm summer breezes
While laughing with my dear sweet sycamore tree
Instead of worrying about others noticing me

Perhaps someday soon, one afternoon delight
My value to others will reach certainty
If not I will sit in loving embrace
While I dream peacefully of shimmering lakes
A story of love, perhaps this might be
But really it’s just a story of a tree
The tale of my beautiful sycamore tree

© Alan Zaugg 2021

Sweet memories of long ago

Of late I can attest
When caught inside my mind
I’ve found a moment filled with truth
An origin of light

A day so long ago
Yet clear as yesterday
That moment when I walked with Him
He held me while I prayed

That overwhelming feeling
The closest to heav’n I’ve been
He sat with me, He talked with me
I felt such warmth within

We sat there side by side
We talked as if face to face
The brightness of celestial glory
Emanated from that place

Sweet moment I embrace
These thoughts have calmed my soul
Those memories of long ago
Make me feel quite whole

His temple is my home
Full of eternal grace
The closest to his kingdom on earth
I truly love that place

And so when I am lost
When trapped inside my head
I keep the memory close to me
To chase away the dread

© Alan Zaugg 2020

I wrote this a couple of months ago. The context involved some cherished recent moments where I recalled an event 26 years ago, March. The rhyme is simple and basic, nothing exciting. It’s the meaning that I hold close. I’m religious, spiritual to my core. I’ve had incredible experiences in my life that have bolstered that spirituality. When times are difficult for me to navigate, I’ve found solace in some of these experiences and the very personal real relationship I have with Him (God).

I still find myself falling back into dark moments, some that set me on a downward spiral toward my demise. Every once in a while, I’m reminded of the simple truths that I can hold on to.

I’m not mentally whole. Of this I can attest. I’m a wreck and acknowledge the illness I struggle with. I just grasp hold of any positive influences I can call upon to see me through my darkest days and nights.