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Laughter by Olive Enoch


by Olive Enoch

No one in the garden 

Up the mossy path, 

Yet I almost certainly 

Heard a little laugh. 

Light as fluffy thistledown, 

Fresh as dew at morning, 

Happy as a bird's song 

When the day is dawning. 

No one in the rockery 

As I tiptoe round, 

Listening for another laugh, 

But scarce a single sound . 

Nothing but the sound of grass 

Rippling in the breeze. 

No one in the garden 

But the flowers and trees.