nanna’s garden by Lisa Reily


Lisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. Her poetry has been published in several journals, such Panoply, Magma and Foxglove Journal. Lisa is currently a budget traveller with two bags, one laptop and no particular home. You can find out more at


nanna’s garden



a concrete path leads to the scent of lemons,

warm plums from your tree,

sweet tomatoes straight from the sun;

delicate orchids in chipped pots,

their stems flowered with pearl-white shells,

petals splashed with pink;

and your old shoes, covered in damp soil,

for the love of gardening.


there is no sound in your garden,

but I still hear the drag of your slippers

along the old concrete path,

the snap as you pluck a weed on your journey,

and your dog bark as he runs for a ball you’ve thrown,

the crunch of grass under his feet.

your greenhouse no longer hides a huge bird’s nest,

its lime-green leaves transported to my garden,

as promised; now that you are gone.


Lisa Reily