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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #808654
Love may be lost, but never dies ~ tend your garden well.
BY LOVE'S GARDEN SOWN

Hopes and dreams reduced to dust ~ strewn, nomadic spore...
orphaned spawn of shattered trust and love that is no more.
Seed of what was meant to be but died upon the vine...
remnants of the part of me in bloom when he was mine.

Borne upon the wings of time and scattered to the winds,
may each in hearts apart from mine find fertile soil again.
Drinking deep from waters pure instead of bitter tears...
rooted well, therein secure, sustained by passing years.

In each heart a seed implants, may the soil be tilled ~
may its flower of romance therein a life fulfill.
Let the fruit that from its bloom is brought forth in due course ~
ripen full with passing time and suffer not remorse.

Love's tender shoots, protected well by gentle, caring hands
can withstand the fires of hell that sear the heart of man...
guide their growth and stay them not until they bring forth flower ~
spare them the decline and rot comprising Satan's power.

Stake them true against the storms the sea of life may bring;
keep their tendrils safe from harm in these and in all things.
Let not failures such as mine your garden wilt nor blight ~
tend it well and it in kind will flourish in your light.

The Light that heals a darkened heart and breathes for wounded souls;
the Light that God to man imparts and renders spirits whole.
In your garden find retreat ~ oasis from your fears,
in its fruits, full ripe and sweet, find succor through the years.

And as the colors of life's dawn give way unto the night,
forever may its bloom live on wherever it finds light...
in earthly lives that here remain when you have journeyed on ~
by your garden's love sustained, inspired to soldier on.

Generations yet to come shall know the fragrance sweet
of its blossoms, every one, and drink their nectar sweet.
When the angels take your hand and draw you to God nigh,
may the ground on which you stand, beheld with fading eye,

be that by love's garden sown when we were torn apart ~
progeny of what once bloomed in my now grieving heart.
For even when the petals fade before they find full bloom,
'tis still from these in life that's made the sweetest of perfumes.


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