This Garden

This is one of my only poems that rhyme and is written in some sort of form.


This garden is rooted in love,
The planter, with laughter
Sows a seed undreamed of

The planter, in all his deeds
was, is, will always be
Knowingly sowing his seeds

This seed- the youngest of all
is sought with devoted attention
He doesn't care it's small

He tends, he waters the leaves
He guards it from the thieves

Hands delved deep in the soil
Dirt caught deep down his fingernails.
The sun's hot heat is his only toil

No longer works in progress
The tomatoes ripe, he seeps
his teeth into thick freshness

People come from all around
To see, to taste, to smell
fruits of the harvest abound