The garden
Flowers are growing in the mud of my soul
The aches turned to pleasures
The bruises turned to birds
Path once overgrown
Now pruned
The dust and debris
Swept away
By a lost sweeping brush
Forgotten in the corner
Until you shone your light
And the tools
Were found again
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
The garden
Flowers are growing in the mud of my soul
The aches turned to pleasures
The bruises turned to birds
Path once overgrown
Now pruned
The dust and debris
Swept away
By a lost sweeping brush
Forgotten in the corner
Until you shone your light
And the tools
Were found again