Gardening By The Elevated Poem by Joe Bisicchia

Let dreams arise and keep them afloat.
Nothing's sadder than demise of hope.

Seeds matter, and so we search for the good ones.
Rather be a flower follower with patience for impatiens
than have the world's rush hour overpower our needs.

As for the bulbs of our spiritual holes,
seems world has no time, but more than enough
for weeds.

But this is our station, and that train again has left us
with nowhere to go but here, fastened to the cold cement.
This is home for us, the pigeonholed homeless.
And another day has went.

Let us now rest for so much more gardening awaits.
Seeds shall rise, for the patient shall be blessed.





Published in The Wax Paper,2016