My Garden

My Garden

I once had a garden

where flowers grew

the reddest of roses

and violets blue.

Then grew yellow daffodils

and I marveled at their light

They were so fragile

but in them I delight.

My violets shriveled

but I cared not,

I needed only the yellow,

that's what I thought.

It was after, though,

that the roses began to wilt.

As the daffodils took over

I became filled with guilt.

My roses are but a shadow,

and the daffodils don't look so bright.

Of course they still shine,

but they can't see my plight.

The violets grew back

coming in force,

and the yellow sunk

as my voice became hoarse.

My garden lies untended,

as I lay on the ground

I have looked for God,

yet he's not been found.

A single white rose

And single one black

mother to them all

brings them all back.

The black rose drags

the others to the light

and the others follow

the kind rose of white.

My garden stands tended

by other hands than I

and I realize

God has passed close by.

A drop of blood stains

the shirt I wear

always to remind

I can hold the cross I bear.