In the garden of my mind,
where thoughts grow wild and free;
like baby blossoms, soul designed,
there grows a poetree...
It sprang forth almost overnight,
with not one hint or clue;
to put pen to paper and to write,
It just woke up and it grew.
Whispering branches lend a hand,
to rhythym in sweet verse;
Lilting leaves (might) understand,
good meter interspersed.
It's a serene, silent retreat,
It's calming, soothing shade;
When I'm feeling obsolete,
I seek solace in its glade.
A poetree has healing powers,
Minds are quietly tended;
As buds will turn to flowers,
Hearts broken are gently mended.
Its roots dig deep within my soul,
and reminds of self-worth;
It lets me fly, makes me whole,
Yet keeps me down to earth.
It satiates and satisfies,
It always brings me cheer;
Laughter dances in my eyes,
like a smiling souvenir.
So on we write, in auto mode,
in various styles, degrees;
Each of us has been bestowed,
with blessed poetrees...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love this piece so much, can truly relate... an Excellent, keep up the work