When in the garden fallow
Twig and leaf are dead
It’s time to cut and trim, dig and prod
Preparing for the lovely breath of Spring
In the winter of my memories
Where feelings lay unsaid
And frosty numbness veils
Life within, still seeking
Is poked and tethered dead
With sharp and pointed emotions
Let’s trim away, instead
The rot, the used and spent
For our spirit’s Spring
Once again to joyously blossom
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