My garden is overgrown
I cannot see through the pines
And on the voices drone
Above, birds have flown
Their freedom-loving spirit shines
But my garden is overgrown
Contained in skin, sinew, and bone
No guidance, no signs
And on the voices drone
Too many seeds have been sown
None in discernible lines
So the garden is overgrown
Through it I wander alone
My thoughts are choking binds
On and on the voices drone
I try to climb to where the sun has shone
But there is no escape from the choking vines
Because my garden is overgrown
And on the voices drone.
Ruth E. Day 