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.