The Garden of Life

Sometimes I wonder what my life will look like

When I say that final farewell.

Will I look back and say I made heaven,

Or will I turn my face from my fiery hell?

Sometimes I look at my life

And it's fruits make me cry.

I see a garden of love, a garden of strife

Tended by fingers divine.

Sometimes I see crimson roses,

And other times starving black weeds

This garden is my secret oasis

It's where I write my history.

Sometimes I sow ugly words of hate,

Yet still I reap these words of love.

When push comes to shove, I escape my fate

By tending the branch that holds my gentle dove.

Habit plants Life's garden

And you always reap what you sow.

Grant transgressors a pardon,

And don't bake bread out of sour dough.