Barren lands

upon a garden where one stands

today the roses wither, dry up

rotten are the fruits of the trees

this weather looks strange


but not unfamiliar, so it will be again

as once a rosy garden, at least daisies

maybe not sunflowers again even if

the sun gets too bright, it hurts the roses


only then the girl will come here

dancing in the rain, who the flowers

long to look at, so beautiful in her

little dress she carries with a smile


but here today I sit with hot coffee

in a chilly winter morning, yet dark

I must weed out and plant the seeds

that I want in the spring to come…

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