Sometimes I wonder,
What it's all about.
When I'm weary,
Filled with doubt.
When life's torments
Become so great
That my will,
It seems to break.
Late at night, when all is quiet,
And my thoughts won't let me sleep.
I pray to God to give me strength,
Or take me home - my soul to keep.
A daily struggle of just gett'n by.
Life's hurdles have become too great.
I try so hard, with so little gain.
Quiet desperation seems to be my fate.
As of recent, my mind has wandered.
To this conclusion, I have come
Of this world, I have grown tired.
Life here now, has lost its fun.
I think I would rather live
In a place where everyone is kind.
Where laughter and smiles are routine.
That's the world, I'd like to find.
A place where there is no incessant pain.
Where there are no Monday morning blues.
No taxes, credit cards or bills at all.
That's a start, for the place I'd choose.
Where chirping birds and wind chimes
Are the sounds that fill the air.
A place where love-ones gather 'round.
No engines roar or screams of terror.
A home of dancing butterflies,
Playful squirrels and smiling slugs.
Where aphids are not distained.
Just little treats for ladybugs.
A place where scented roses,
Lightly fill the morning air.
Of grass so green and columbines -
A quaint existence, without despair.
A land of so much contentment,
That the word 'depression' isn't known.
I think I would be much happier there
Where genuine love is always shown.
A land where we live with harmony.
Where mankind are not the thugs.
Of lofty trees and swaying branches
A home to gentle, kind and friendly bugs.
A place where angels are all around.
And in the garden, Jesus stops to chat.
Always with a smile and a warm gentle laugh.
I think Eden must have been like that.
Now in my dreams and idle thoughts
I have found a place of calm respite.
A shield of contentment, I have now.
When frustration's arrows begin to strike.
So, if you speak and I don't seem to hear.
Or if you wave and shout unbeknownst to me.
Don't think I'm rude or most unkind
It's just that my mind has set me free.
YOU ARE READING
Stories and Poems Written from the Garden
PoetryA friend of mine suggested that instead of organizing what I write chronologically that I do so by topic. This book contains short stories and poems written from the garden.
