My small garden is dying with wilted pansies and ruined daisies.
The ground stayed dry and bruised as it hid its deepened insecurities only to be walked on and wrongfully used.
My garden stayed away from old disease but it holds its weakness yearning for the nutrients of the world.
tired and isolated my garden waits for a gardener to fix it from further harm.
gardeners in all shapes and sizes bring their tools to uproot and damage or to flourish and love my little garden.
but a sweet boy with no tools stayed awhile to nurture the soil and wilted flowers.
coming often to sit and watch my small garden bloom and grow from its dying beginning to my gardens final days of growing.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from my heart
PoetryMy mental health is decreasing, but poetry helps! All my poems come my heart. It's not always easy,but I move on and keep trying. The poetry/poems come from my trauma. It's difficult to deal with at times , yet in the end I hope to be better.
