romantic soul garden

I do my gardening in the most chaotic fashion
whenever my friends will drop by and give me a seed
I will put is aside for a while or feel forced to plant it at once
depending on the width of their smile and the urgency suggested by it.

wherever loving words fall from their flight roses tend to grow
but wintery fights help lots of weeds engulf the sweet plants in a circle of mistrust,
wherever swords words fall, the ground who gets wounded tends to forget
about its ultimate goal and it leaves place to desert unless I water it with forgiveness.

my garden, my garden at the crossroad of lives
whom shall you touch if not those who take care of the patch
whom shall you teach about pruning and weeding and the efforts it takes
the patience and song and the many steps to the fountain and back ?