I have let you in my garden,

The place I like to escape to.

Sitting under an old birch tree,

Looking at ripples in wide waters.

So calm and quiet, almost graceful.

A cold breeze, the sound of waves.

The peaceful exile in my heart.

And you sat down next to me,

On this old wooden bench,

Comforting my wandering soul.

Watched clouds float by together,

When you told me about your garden.

Sunflowers, Tulips, Orchids and Lilies,

You said you like the yellow ones the most,

They always remind you of late summer sunrises.

And since you visited, I’ve come here more often.

I’ve started digging in my garden’s dried up dirt,

Cleaning up the mess of the long forgotten past.

Because I wanted to create something beautiful,

Something meaningful so you’d come more often.

A flower bed of roses, blooming only for you.

Passionately I have spend months and months,

Nurturing and watering the precious plants,

Ivy leafs were hanging over a closed gate.

My mind dedicated to give it all I have. 

Despite the heavy torture I kept going.

Thorns of roses drilled into my skin.

Thick blood dripping from my hands,

Slowly running down the fingers,

Sinking into my garden’s soil.

Pain pulsing through veins,

Beating broken hearts,

Almost breaking me.

But this garden,

Became all I cared,

All I’ve ever wanted.

It was making me forget,

About wounds from the past,

From you and also from myself.

Now time turned them into scars,

Getting healed by your touch.

I know they’ll open again,

To keep memories alive.