Garden In Progress
time tracing down a dirty cheek
dripping from a scraped chin
puddles of decay following battle
stubbornly growing cribbled roses
wounded by hyena behavior
licking their own salt crusted petals
and the gardener is smiling
as she walks away
Reality in Progress . . . . . . . ❤ 
December 28, 2012 at 11:23 pm
Nice. Flowed well for me, except the part of licking salt crusted petals which I didn’t quite understand.
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December 28, 2012 at 11:50 pm
Thank you. The roses have grown from tears, hence the salt – maybe it should have been ‘wounded roses’ instead of ‘cribbled’… I didn’t think it through too much, just kinda let it form.
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December 29, 2012 at 12:03 am
Ha! Now with this apt explanation, I daresay this was a beautiful poem. Flows perfectly. Simple words and descriptions that take one’s mind as close to the raw experience as one could get without being the actual gardener and roses.
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December 29, 2012 at 12:10 am
:) I’m glad it made a little more sense now. And thank you so much for caring enough to ask, that’s very valuable to me.
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December 29, 2012 at 12:15 am
It made a lot more sense.
You are warmly welcome. I try not to deceive myself or the writer.
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December 29, 2012 at 12:22 am
It is much appreciated :)
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