I’d like to garden

My own heart,

To pull the weeds of sadness

And hate

From the foundation

I sprout from,

To plant seeds of hope

I remember sitting

In my mom’s lap,

Her arms curled around me,

The rocking chair creaking slightly

In the breeze of her love,

Swayed and lulled by a sea

Smoke curls into the air,

Twirling,

One thread dipping another,

A slow waltz

With some quick steps to spark

The band,

A careful orchestra