The Gated Garden

Photo by Athena from Pexels

You wanted into my garden.
Wanted this wild flower.
Be prepared to see 
my imperfections, as I am
pulling up weeds 
planting new seeds, growing
maturing into my purpose 
on Earth.

You wanted in my garden.
To see this wild flower.
Be prepared for the storms,
for when it rains it pours,
things may appear muddy
with puddles of tears
everywhere
when the sun doesn’t shine
on my life.

You wanted in my garden. 
To smell my flower.
The sweetness and true essence
of a budding pretty little thing
with thorns and roots, firmly planted.
Don’t unearth me
for a challenge
in my labyrinth of obstacles  
hoping it leads you to euphoria
and delight.

Another poem to read: Guidance