There is nowhere I’d rather be………………
When a person seeks a refuge
We call them a refugee,
So when I’m in my garden
Throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.
With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me each day,
A refuge that’s become a true friend.
The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!