[First Post] 3317
Vines entangled 'neath the fruit
of love's labouring, sorrowful sigh,
this garden, green and hungry for
a watchful, watering eye.
Come till the fragrant thistled earth.
Come cleanse the soil of stones.
Spread seeds of summer's silent songs
and grind white, fertile bones.
For a garden needs a mindful soul
to root and grow and thrive.
To yield a moonlight harvest
and struggle so to stay alive.
This planted plot of sweeping
emerald, olive~coloured leaves
suffers many a snowy springtide storm
as Mother Nature heaves
Her bountiful burden, ebbing as
the seasons pass and flow
o'er a garden, found within the heart
of this woman, so long ago.