The Pale Gardener (Poem)
A poem to show the journey after passing.
I had spent countless hours relearning poetry as it was the only way I could make this story into something that worked. My brain is fried, but I'm happy to have finally written my first piece for October. More to come soon (as long as it's not another sonnet, I might die).
Enjoy!
Fall swift like rain and land upon his patch; Trees halt your speed with leaves and break your fall First sight, the truth is almost hard to latch The gardener so pale and blue guides all Death is no enemy to you or me, He wants not fear but for you to reflect- Only if the surface could truly see His job is not easy, please show respect. In no hurry, yet Death comes in a pinch The woods and greens all fall the same, a cinch Pure water will cleanse your exhausted soul; Ripe fruit refreshes, heals, and fills the hole. Scythe ever sharp for flowers Death shall reap A gift bouquet to trek with, yours to keep