The Garden
If he were a barren field,
She was the rain, sun and seed,
And she was the Gardener raking dead leaves.
But if he were destroyed by the flames of pain,
How could he be healed and feel better again?
She dug in the hard, cold ground,
And found love sleeping sound.
She planted a seed,
And continued to feed, nurture and treat,
Until a Rose grew tall and proud.