I feel your hands
in the depths of my heart.
Grabbing the weeds
and tearing them apart.

What do you want?
I ponder in the dark.
Your hands don't react
to my remark.

Why choose me?
I'm nothing but weeds!
The hand slowly opens
with a palm full of seeds.

One seed is scooped up.
It's special indeed.
You say, “This is my love,
and it's my love you need.”

"But my soil is cracked,
by pain & by death.
I'm flawed and broken!"
I plea out of breath.

I feel it being planted
This new love in my heart.
It grows and it grows,
which is the best part.

It grows even now,
and it's only the start.
I've planted one too!
In your garden heart.