(I found this in my draft file. I just love this. The truth? I don’t know if I wrote it or not. I hope I did. But if I had I think I would have posted it right away. I wish I knew the author. If you do, let me know. Enjoy it anyway, whoever wrote it.)
My neglected garden reminds me
Of the joys I knew, playing in the dirt
Planting the flowers.
Sitting in the quiet of the morning.
Listening to God
Times I spent in deep prayer
As the flowers grew around me
And the butterflies tickled my hair
While I sat so still.
I came to the garden alone
But God was always there.
Waiting.
I’ll come to the garden again
While the “dew is still on the roses”,
I will hear him speak
I will be restored.
