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 The Dysfunctionally Functioning Mind of an American Aspiring Nobody

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The Gardener


He cursed himself for the yellow roses
that had bloomed where he had planted the red.
He cursed himself, for his beloved wives dying
was that red roses would dance across her flowerbeds,
as the spring wind blew through the trees.
So angrily he uprooted them!

 That night, a weeping spirit intruded his dreams,
supporting a bouquet of withered roses.

 Awakening from his slumber,
the silent image still in his mind,
the light of a new dawn revealed to his eyes
a single yellow rosebud, glistening from the morning dew.







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