I found an empty space outside,
Just like the clean sheet of paper
On my desk,

And I started to shovel
Deep into the ground
So I could plant the seed

For the foundation
To create something beautiful,
Something new.

Every day I tend to it;
My garden and my paper,
And I picture what it will look like

When it is finished.
Every day I see it sprout;
Getting closer and closer to the

Potential of being what it really is:
A work of art,
And a chance for expression.

As the days get longer,
And the nights get colder,
I wonder if my garden will survive.

I try to comfort it;
I try to keep it alive,
But at the end of the year,

It is no use.
My garden and my paper
Have wilted.

At last, the chill is over,
And I get to see my friends again.
New inspirations for new gardens.

I start over,
Keeping the memories of the chill
In my brain;

Careful not to repeat the
Mistakes of the past.
And for many months

I am unsuccessful.
Until the sunlit sky
Turns to my garden and paper

And sheds a new light.
And after many months
I am rewarded with the most

Beautiful gift the world has ever seen,
My paper,
And my garden.