Less than poetic
The memories sit
Under boulders
Kept hidden
Legs positioned
Hands firmly pressed to the sandstone surface
Muscles contract
Perspiration forms
Drips
Strength drains
Releasing my stance
Tears making the journey down my face
Back sliding down the rough surface
Face in hands
Joining the earth
If only something would break these boulders
Dissolve them
Sweep them away
My past might bloom
My garden might be complete