The Gardener

To the Gardener of My Soul

I was planted in the soil of life.

Just a seed

With water and sunlight

I grew

First roots

Then a sprout

Beauty beginning to form.

Then one day

The rain never came

And the sun got hotter

The next day

The same

Then the next

And the next

Here I stand, caught in a drought.

Stem withered

Leaves wilted

Roots parched 

Death; the inevitable

But then, my Gardener came.

He watered me and nurtured me.

Pruning from me the remnants of death.

When He touched me

Something amazing began to happen.

I started to grow taller.

Then a bud.

Then a bloom.

Now, I'm flourishing.