A Seedling’s Cry
I am planted in a lonely garden.
The cold grey soil continues to harden.
There is no dew covered emerald green.
It is a cold and desolate scene.
There is no warm sunshine to nourish my sprouts.
Moisture’s replaced by constant draughts.
I want to grow toward a soft blue sky.
Please someone hear my humble cry.
My hope is that time will slow today.
The hours fly as I wither away.
My hope is that by some faithful chance,
A gentle gardener will cast me a glance,
And water the soil around my stem,
So I can grow from limb to limb.