We all must tend the garden of life
That flourishes in our hearts,
Weeding, Feeding, Reaping, Sowing
The flora therein by parts.

For each part the gardener decides
What its fate will be:
To run rampant where the
flower may choose
Or be carried off with the breeze.

To you I said, "Run rampant and free!"
Your roots spread and grew.
While the aroma wafted up, we heard
The breeze whisper, "I love you."

Poem by Rachelli
Photos by Bob