For My Yang Guide. By CpSingleton © 2015
The garden grows with summer’s gentle fingers.
Flowers, shy at first, fill the dark places with
Colour and heart. Songs and smiles and tiny dancers
Give life a new sweet breath to join the warm breeze.
So soon, however, cruel winter cripples life.
Death makes room for the cycle to begin again.
Songs and dance fade to last shrill gasps.
Soil, once bubbling with life, become stagnant for a time.
Then, just as hope is about bow and close the gate,
The sun returns to tap a tuning fork for life’s song.
Within the barren soil a tiny choir can be heard
Each beautiful head that rises is another section
Of the coming, momentary, orchestra of life.
It’s no less devastating than to see the death
Of such sweet musicians to this life, yet, no more
Uplifting to than…
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