My Garden

March 20, 2008
By
Sweet spring withers under the sun.
Tendrils shoot up to the sky,
As a relaxing whisper of wind slithers through the vines.
A gentle murmur among the starry sanctuary.
Thirsty by day and sleeping at night,
The flowers wake up to sticky dew.
Emerging from their slumber to learn to grow.
Gently being coaxed like a child.





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