Beryl's Backyard

In the garden,

the branches sway,

Beryl says to come and stay

In the garden,

the flowers smile

the soil sits in a pile 

In the garden,

the lorikeets laugh, the bobtails slither, and the mice craft;

In the garden, she first felt the cuts and bruises, she had them all;

In the garden she'll always stay, playing in the gardenbeds, her final grave.