Sowing Time

I step
in my garden of thyme,
my heart gently beats.
I smell a scent so sweet.
It flowers and grows
like ancient Egyptians,
Greeks, and Romans had known.
I burn
it for courage,
to purify my heart.
Wrap it and gift it,
for a Warrior’s depart.
It’s thyme, it’s love,
food to be consumed,
filling your body,
changing from old to new.
We lay
in our garden of thyme,
hearts gently beat to the ground,
where safe passage is granted,
for another around.
These sweet seeds I sow,
everything in thyme will end,
as everything in thyme will grow.


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