Phase 1

His heart was full of cobwebs and weeds, while consisting of very little flowers. His dirt has been upturned by years of fear, self-loathing and low self esteem; it has been salted by tears and hence made perfect groundwork for our growing garden. A bud here, a blossom there, they rose. But the cold returned. A heart entering spring was dragged back down into a cavern of winter snow.

Phase 2

I couldn't find him. He left no tracks, just disappeared into the winter foliage. I called to him but was only met with echoing silence. Be still, my heart, the garden flourishes still--though frozen.