Healing Garden
You left the garden in a mess.
Strange thing for a gardener.
But they say those with trades
leave their own home last on the list.
I remember rolling up my sleeves.
On my knees rolling like a carpet
the grass covered paths.
Between six raised beds.
And the shed full of discarded things.
Paint boxes, boat engines,
strimmer cord, trailing ivy
and electrical items that
no longer carried a spark.
In the dark of my broken dreams
it seems the garden wanted to heal.
I toiled and sweated in a blissful state.
Pulling weeds as if in prayer.
Uncovering tree roots along giant rocks.
The resulting bounty now
reflect those tears I shed.
In their center they carry
the memory of my hurt.
Their beauty bringing a smile.
06/05/2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
