Lilacs

Lilacs come and go.
They bloom and they grow.
Purple and Lavender,
They remind me of home.

Every year as a little girl,
I'd spend hours in the garden
Of my grandmother's home.
Lost in the wonderful sweet scent
Of lilacs in New England.

Even as I grew up,
And ventured far away,
At the end of spring's day,
I can still catch a hint of
Soft gentle warmth
In the pleasant month of May.

And now as the years pass me by,
My heart hungers and aches
To go visit my grandmother's garden
And watch them bloom and grow.