Sometimes I stop
Deep breath
Still the heart beat that seeks to escape this cage
Deep breath
Smile and continue
This is how most of our conversations go
My forefathers were farmers
Hence I know how to grow things by His will
But what does a farmer's son do with a flower
He is shy of thinking about her
But compelled to care
There have been so many niches in this world
And away He turned him again and again
But here it has found lodging
And rest
And an abundance of His gifts.