A Garden

Does our vision grow old?
I sing life’s melody in the morning.

I work slowly on my problems.
I continue to find new ways to grow

My words and actions fall into chorus.
The day swells into an image of hope

Each effort I make is rewarded.
I often make sudden progress.

I love the creator of this plan.
The One who made me is kind.

The dark nights seem to fade.
As the sun rises, my life is like a garden.

I tend the soil carefully to prepare for the crops.
When I take proper action, I grow stronger.

Small actions are seeds that grow tall.
Each flower in the garden is a welcome reward

W. Wayne B.
Dec. 28, 2011

About William Wayne Smith

I'm a poet, library fan and maker.
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