gardener.

I am a gardener,

I trim and water roses greener.

Tulips and morning glory intones my name-

with my bruises and cuts I've gardened to fame,

crying not for a tattered soul;

tattooed with my red leaving my skin coal,

for I look at the rising sun

-and to their ambience I touch gently like a fading moon.

My roses are fulfilling-

mending broken hearts to loving,

yet I know not the joy of a dancing heart

mine skips rhythm with so much hurt,

but I relent not in care giving;

for man's antidote is resident in my gardening.

© Bunguswa Brian™