IN the garden of my mind I write,
with pen being my rake.
I water seedlings of words to make poems.
and love tending to my garden.
Care to partake in visions of my flowers?

Involuntarily
My subconscious
Mind speaks
All that I've "let go"
Down below
Still creeps
Invisible as a ghost
Stuffed into place
All my brokenness
Slaps in the face
Forgotten imprinted
Carved into my soul
All of my losses
Tightly in tow
.....

Sometimes,
I walk around
Scan the crowd
Randomly sit on a cafe
And wonder if that is the place
Where our paths will cross.

If that day happens,
Would you randomly sit with me
As if we've known each other
For a very long time
Would you start to walk with me
And never leave my side?