the garden
an assortment of seeds
delicately planted in the virgin gound
sowed, tilled and watered by God’s grace
surrounded by wise oak trees
that shelter the harsh rain
unaltered innocence
sprouting from the fresh soil
bathing in pure joy
immersing in the golden sunlight
oh little me,
opening up presents with glee
blowing out candles
with a picnic at sea
little did i know
i’d no longer be carefree
as the days go by
little seedlings begin to evolve
budding leaves, reaching high
growing towards the sun
hoping to attract butterflies
stems stand tall in triumph
healthy roots ineradicable
ah but, nature comes to play
wreak havoc and cause dismay
leaving the garden in disarray
skies begin to turn grey
trees begin to violently sway
as the wind threatens to cause chaos
leaves and twigs scattered on the walkway
it was supposed to be a bright sunny day
oh little me
surrounded by chaos
my heart yearning to feel glee
as i look out into the dark sea
i whisper a little plea
Lord, only you can foresee
what the future could be
the garden,
wilted and defeated
dehydrated and abandoned
neglected by it’s nurturers
caught in a hurricane
confined to malice and pain
as they tried every day
staying with each other
their efforts in vain
having to keep up a tiring facade
the night sky lit by the half moon
grieving the death of innocence
the demise of youth happened all too soon
the garden,
now, full of decay.
years pass by in a daze
yet the wise oak trees stay the same
the garden however,
what a shame.
