The Garden

 

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You called out to me to take notice of a time gone by

And the changing seasons;

When I stepped out,

I saw dead flowers and dirt,

The pathway covered in a thick layer of dust and a

carpet of leaves.

I tell you, it hurts each day,

As I see the garden stand in its lost glory;

Abandoned and forgotten of what once used to be its

story,

But now it’s time and it’s time to go,

I pick up the leaves, pick up all that I need,

I let it rain hard and sow some seeds,

The garden will grow

Once again,

In all its glory,

And it will smell of flowers and sunshine,

The way you did,

My love,

It’ll smell of you,

And just like you,

It’ll remain evergreen

-The Late Night Novelist

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