At times we are gardens
Lush with growth, sweet in aroma,
Left untended ourselves alone
Wild as nighttime, bright as day,
Hoping for cultivation under skilled hands.
At times we are roses
Growing scarlet, crimson, upon our bush
Bleeding on the breeze, a scent,
That calls loving embrace to mind
Becoming wholly pleasures given ample time.
At times we are treasured memories
Fair hauntings in the gardeners’ thoughts
Calling from peaceful respite those
Who to our needs shall eager minister
That our joys, lives may continue without end.
Gardens, roses, memories,
So easily forgotten, neglected, set aside,
But time bears us all, every single one,
Carries hopes, dreams, fulfillment,
Crossing plentiful paths for realization.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
As a prompt: Do you know who you are, who we are? Consider this, illustrate your ideas in some creative way. Sometimes what we see is not. Enjoy!