My last garden was my first garden plant’d
step by step seed by seed by shrub by
flower by tree around my babies, their
small tottering steps snaking through beds of
vegetables and flowers; my new garden
growing up around me morning day night
will be my last garden growing stepping
stone by seed by flower by tree by shrub for
diff’rent toddlers for new growing things sup-
planting old mem’ries with new ones still to sprout
a dizain (ish) for dverse poetics of 12/17/19, on hope and utopia
Xanku 
Those of us with grandchildren get a second chance at parenting and gardening; love the allegory.
The thing about gardens is they constantly remind us of death in life and life in death. Nicely done.
I like the linking with similar descriptions of one’s first and last gardens.
Both my gardens are my last garden, depending on how you parse “last”
I like the way this flows making me feel like there will never be a “last garden”…the love and memories are never ending.