The first Garden We Keep

Love is not only roses blooming,


Beneath a warm and perfect sun.


It is the patient tending too,


Long after spring has come and gone.

It is the watering of dreams,


The pulling of old roots of fear,


The choosing,

every single day,


To keep another spirit near.

Together we have planted hope
,

In seasons harsh and seasons mild;


And from the soil of trust and care,


Has grown something beautifully wild.

So let the years continue on,


Their changing winds,

their shifting skies;


The garden that we built with love,


Will flourish where true devotion lies.