I Need a Bed of Roses

I started with a shovel,

But the garden was too Hard.

I elevated to a panga,

The garden never got any softer.

I graduated to pickaxe

Oh now I wished for an excavator.

But I got a jembe,

At least it got me to the digging.

After digging I had to plough

So I needed my shovel back

But I still needed much smaller holes

So I remembered my pickaxe.

It came in handy

I scratched with my soft nails

Turning them to dark crescents

The stems kept drilling my skin

But I endured,

I needed to grow myself a garden of roses.

I didn\’t know what colour they would be,

Then a while later I saw white bulbs

They carried hope so pure and true

I felt this urge to pluck and smell

But a little more patient for a bloom wouldn\’t hurt.

The dee day finally came.

My garden all beautiful with red and white

I run for the white, plucked it and smelt it.

Oh, the purity in it was so….

I went for the red one too,

But there was no much purity

A day later the two faded away.

I was so sad, I went back to the garden

The difference in the colours was so bold.

White warmed my heart with purity but red not as good

White kept the purity in hope forever.

So I need a bed of red roses

Sleep all night on the sweet smell but wake up to the faded red roses,

Then walk to my garden where I left white roses all blooming,

And they energise me with pure hope that I will always nature…

Hope is a pure zeal, keep it in your heart forever

#PenItDown

With Wambui Kirung\’e