Life’s garden

Even as he turned the soil, unearthed the weeds,

He knew that he would have to plant new seeds.

For what is it to grow a garden and not linger,

To stop and revere,the art of your green finger?

What pleasure there is in being freedom’s child

Sprouting buds and leaves, trendrils twirling wild.

There is also great merit in the design and pruning,

For complementing–colour, shape and fine–tuning

At the end of the day, we’ll sit back and admire

The achievements of hopes to which we aspire.

No longer prisoners of our own fault and device,

Co-creators, not victims of the throw of the dice.

No root stands firm without tender loving care,

Nutrients and water, sunshine and refreshing air.

Even when we think that chance is to blame

We must each move towards our own end-game.


New Rain

Soaked by the rain

Of your tantalizing words

Floating in the air

Drenching wet kisses

On my lips, all over me

Your breath in each drop

Little did I know

The rain had become a flood

So strong the allure

Deceptive drizzle

Driven by tumescent winds

Pelting everywhere

The taste of new rain

Freshly fallen, final gush

A verse now complete

Until the next rain…