A Garden of Many Flowers

My youth once was a garden of many flowers that bloomed in each fragrant spring, and the canaries and butterflies flew over them with irresistible charm and supreme gentleness; when winter came with a bitter chill, frost followed without showing mercy,and all the flowers withered! And year after year, I grew fonder and learned more... to want to flee where there was neither death nor sorrow! O innocent boy nurtured of motherly affections, experiencing the ungullible emotions of your age: seeing reality in all its unglamorous image, nothing was allowed, everything was forbidden, and what couldn't be taken away was that priced freedom; a freedom that helped you to become a young man... when most companions didn't keep their mind shut to limitations, living in the moment and ignoring me as their friend! My youth was once a garden of many flowers, roses that I had given in exchange for the tenderest kisses, carnations that I brought to forgotten, unnamed graves, gardenias that I placed on the cathedral's altar in the presence of angels, daises that I picked on the way home for mother who hated lies, but loved her boy with curly hair and dimple cheeks... a school-boy, who never ran out of pencils and sheets! O middle-age man, why do you look back to reminisce how your sun never set on an horizon without clouds? Your purpose was to show the true face of kindness, and your determination and ambition didn't go unnoticed by others; you'll be rewarded by life with the rare gift of longevity, to recompense you with another garden of many flowers... those flowers that don't wilt, but ever know the joys of eternity: unlikely the days when your youth didn't measure the time given by destiny! This is my theme also-Zen Garden by A Rambling Poet