I walk in the garden alone
But much of the beauty I see
Was planted there by my mother
Who is in Paradise waiting for me.
She lived in her garden day after day,
It was her greatest delight,
To take a walk at the close of the day
To bid all her flowers good night.
As she slowly walked down the path
She seemed to touch every plant
And I think they really did know
For everything that she planted
Would always flourish and grow.
She loved to have company
She was friend to all, it is true
But before they would leave
She would want to take a walk
thru the garden with you.
Now I walk in the garden alone
View the flowers she planted with care
No, I don’t walk in the garden alone
I feel that she walks with me there.
— by Lena Gertrude Dixon Wiles, our grandmother