You closed the gate to your garden.
Where I used to play when it rained.
Over the years you let things die.
I’ll never see your flowers again.
The sunflowers don’t smile.
The ivy lies flat.
The grass has turned brown.
The weeds own the land.
Nothing can be saved.
You don’t care that it’s a grave.
Death hovers over the backyard.
Like the maple trees did.
Birds are too afraid to fly over.
A safe haven it no longer is.
You could bring it back to life.
But you won’t take the time.
You have better things to do.
You’d rather bitch and moan and whine.
Stop yelling at me and tend to your garden.
I’m all black and blue.
But the daisies don’t feel it.
You and the roses share one little trait.
Your tongue is so sharp,
It spits blood in my face.
You’re too ashamed for people to see it.
Everyone hates you anyway.
Why would they come to your front door?
You would just send them away.
If the garden was mine,
A miracle would take place.
I’d breathe life into it.
I’d put a smile on its face.
The grass would be greener
Than the ocean floor.
The pansies would laugh.
The air would smell good.
I’d open up the garden gate.
I’d dance in the rain.
Like all children should…..
