I wrote this during my freshman year of college, and it’s stayed with me.

I will wait in your garden of dreams,
to uncover the mysteries of the unseen.
To plant the seeds in your season,
so they can grow upon wisdom and reason.

There I will sit, amidst your strength,
until your son opens the gate,
to rescue me, help me through this life,
in labor, laughter, toil and strife.

No, this garden is no dream.
You are planting a harvest,
as cloudy as it may seem.

After the rains,
wisdom and reason will bloom,
and the sweetest scent of love
will be detected in every room.

For in this garden,
the root of your love was built,
my Gardener, my life to till.