When You Enter a Garden . . .
Look upon the flower beds
in which they choose to be kept.
Watch as the boy tilts his head
looking where his mother slept.
She will not wake up,
for he knows this in his mind.
Though why her?
Why her, out of all the people who are blind.
It is a perplexing question
to find answer.
It was not Death that took her
it was a cancer.
Maybe his grandmother knows the answer.
"Why do the good people die first?"
The old women smiled at the boy
She knew how to quench his thirst.
"When you enter a garden what flowers do you pick?"
"The most beautiful ones ." the boy replied
The answer stuck within his head..
He searched for others, his mind tried
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