Memory

Through tortured weeks of hospital surgery The old fruit garden of my childhood days Grew close about me. Through black storms of pain Swayed joyous boughs of rosy apple-bloom; White blossomed branches of an old plum-tree; Old grape-vines clinging to a sunny wall; Great bushes of red currants and raspberries. Through hours of torturing thirst I found again That old fruit garden--as if body and soul Clutched at cool juicy fruits--remembering-- Devouring them through a parched mouth of the brain.