My Garden (Spoken Word).

My garden is filled with

weeds of the past and

seeds I have planted to

create a new

future.

The weeds sting my

hands as I try to

pull them from

the ground.

It is a mound

I have re-made every

time there has

been a storm.

It is like a

life re-born.

My garden grows

flowers in the summer

and dies in the

winter.

I try to water

it during the

drought,

but sometimes

the ground falls

beneath my feet.

Sometimes the birds

tweet, but then they hide

and there is

silence in

my garden.

I think

I like my

garden.

My garden is

mine,

and my life.

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