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“Complaint in the Garden”

I come to you in many pieces placing my foot in your garden requesting nothing but your power,
on an early Sunday morning unannounced, while the dew is still fresh on the morning flowers,
I too am grinded up dirt in a rectangle which waits for the sun to hopefully shine,
with a few minutes of rising water and needed care who knows maybe a stem will eventually rise,
I took a step back and looked at last months tulips and wondered if it could actually happen.
If someone too planted a new seed inside me I could take my place in the front row of next months chrysanthemums,
I’m ready to grow and my soul is becoming impatient, oh how I’m starving,
I want to be just like those red roses underneath the shaded trees I want to bloom too,
that was my complaint in the garden