A Garden Friends of the past— Those I’ve almost forgotten Live in a garden Now wilted and rotten. What once was so verdant, So spectacularly green, Now dies and decays, Black and obscene. Cody, my first friend, Hannah, my first crush. I can remember their faces, In a garden, once lush. I’ve allowed for bad seeds, To grow into weeds. The thorned and monstrous vines, Have plenty on which to feed. A bad memory emerges. Poisonous spores eclipse the sun. Adrenaline pumps, my heart surges. No more light, nowhere to run. Now all I’m able to see, Is putrid growth and enemies. Why have all the good friends, Left and forsaken me? Why did they have to flee? And leave me with broken stalks and dead trees? So I fall down to my knees, As the swamp in this garden, Rises like the sea. I close my eyes and search far and wide, For a friend who has neither backstabbed nor lied. And I open my eyes, joyed to discover. That which I should have sooner uncovered. I smile and I remember the fact, That all I must do is one simple act. I hack and I cut, Through the thicketry and weeds, And blaze the path To what my mind really needs. I plow and I plant, I tend and I sow, And I thank God Because now I know From the depths of my being I make the decision To cut out the weeds With merciless precision I open my eyes And am not surprised That when my doubt ends I see my true friends. And I know that only on myself My happiness depends. --Tad Wheeler
Posted on: Fri, 14 Jun 2013 22:14:42 +0000