The cup of my life is
Brimming with ordeals;
Yet I strive and try,
For I don’t wish to
Look back and sigh.
The soil of my body is
Covered with weeds of error.
My hope named rake makes
Way for my hidden sunflowers
To bathe in the sun,
To feel empowered.
The resolved named oak
In my garden of feelings,
Feels choked by the
Indecisive ivy’s dealings.
But then comes along my
Inspiring hedge shear,
Removing poisonous regrets,
Freeing me from fear.
My life is my dearest dear,
And I’ve reached quite near
My destination, with a steady steer.
I won’t back out,
Not this year.
WriteFluence 
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