They'll Grow Back

I see myself as a garden.

I am made of rich soil, with strength and emotion, sorrow and joy.

And when I am in my purest form,

radiating light and energy,

new and warm and soft and bright,

my flowers grow.

But sometimes shadows cascade upon me,

and my soul pours and floods and is consumed by darkness,

and the flowers I sang for,

laughed for,

glowed for,

die.

And I am left to wait for the light to recapture me,

and return me to spring.

But it always does, and it always will.

The flowers will die,

But they'll grow back.