Dear garden of my childhood, here my years
Have run away like little grains of sand;
The moments of my life, its hopes and fears
Have all found utterance here, where now I stand;
My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears,
You are my home, do you not understand?

Excerpt from 'The Fruit Garden Path' by Amy Lowell (Public Domain)

1/1 Edition.
4608 x 3328 px.
Digital Art, created with AI.