The Garden of Me

A poem.

I felt the tremors long before the earthquake came.
Standing in my garden of promise,
I watched as the clouds rolled in,
sending hail that tore my flowers apart.
Then the ground opened up
and swallowed the roots.
With nothing left, I fell.

The darkness surrounded me
for what seemed like ages.
Until I landed in a puff
of dandelions.
Wishes danced on the breeze.

Photo by Keegan Houser on Unsplash

Hope

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