He waters the thirsty soil in the sweltering heat
I've heard him singing hymns,
while plowing the soil, and sowing the seeds,
and nurturing the saplings under the shiny sun
Twinkle in his eyes like the dewdrops of the grass blades
folds of his skin like the bark of an old tree
he hums along as the robin sings
and beams like the sunflower as the honeybees dance
the old gardener lives his garden
One season evolves into another
small plants turn into big trees
but his work continues on
unrelenting and never ending
His back has bowed, bent like a fruit laden tree
he is gone old like the corner oak tree
but the scent of the flowers, the cool breeze
and the soothing shade of the garden
rejuvenates him and keeps him going