What It Took To Bloom [Poetry]

Garden

On April, before summer, in my garden, you sowed your seeds.

They enveloped my fields, robbing it barren. Nothing grew, not even weeds.

I delight every winter, watch them shrivel and expire.

But every spring, they grew back. Wilder than wild fire.

On the third spring, I burned them down along with the trees.

Along with the birds, and the bugs, from the squirrels, to the bees.

The next morning, I prance into my garden.

Ready for a new start, a Garden of Eden.

I step outside but my eyes watered the ground.

Seeing that flowers have sprouted from your roots deep down.