There is a boy who has lost & found himself so many times, he marks each rebirth with a flower making a garden on his body but he also forgets to water himself.
We nourish ourselves
As we were taught
By the first gardeners of our soul.
Those who make up
Our youngest memories.
My garden grows
Full of weeds and cacti,
Thirsty for refreshment
Offered sometimes
But not with any consistent
Design
For thriving.
Yet
I thrive.
Because I unlearned
Thirst
At my first taste
Of real, cool,
Refreshing
Nourishment.
