My Garden

I gaze at the garden of my past,
And I shudder to think that the flowers never last.

Rows upon rows of flowers never bloomed
Never seeing their beauty; they are too soon doomed.

Passing an old flower, that once was so fair.
Yet it wilted from lack of care.

Then a couple others much more recent,
Although now ugly, they once were decent.

They got to bloom, but then they wilted.
One of the Gardner?s perspectives were tilted.

To plant ungrowing seeds I am still prone.
So the beauty they contain is never shown.

To my little seeds, this my gardner?s plea
That you would grow; reveal your beauty

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