She has this place where she goes
  when she needs to be all alone.
        She calls it her place,
a place where the hurts of the world
       quiet down and fade away.
                                                
A place of beauty, where her fingertips
can paint over all the wrong
and all the pain she feels
in colors bright and cheery.

It’s a place of peace, where the fears
        of her heart slow and still…
  A place of calm, where the oceans
       of emotions lay at her feet
            and weep no more.

It’s a place where she can breathe,
where she feels sheltered, protected
from the coldness outside
of her canopy of shade… It’s her place.

                  She went to her place…..
                     ……she visits very often...

A  stiff  breeze
blowing  the  cherry  blossoms  away.
Petals  floating  into  space
like  tiny  butterflies.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.

===========================================

O My gardener
your shadow is my best fertilizer
and you watered me with your perspiration
your sweat added me the fragrance
your hands gave me flowers
You can never die O MY Gardener
since you are always busy in the garden of life
planting more and more new seeds
and everything follows you creeping with Smile

by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~