Springtime is a glorious time
between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to understand
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises.
You begin to accept your defeats,
You learn to build your roads on today,
So you plant your own garden
And you learn that
The Kiss Of The Sun For Pardon
The Song Of The Birds For Mirth
One Is Nearer God's Heart In The Garden
Than Anywhere Else On Earth
~Dorothy Frances Gurney~
A good deed is never lost,
he who sows courtsey reaps friendships,
and he who plants kindness gathers love.
(borrowed from Saint Basil)
Poetry: Springtime, by L.Mikesell © 2001