It came to me like snails to gardens,

Ready to consume.

Slowly, deliberately,

Darkness filled the room.

Whispers turned to serpents’ hiss,

A hollow ache, a chilling dread.

The tendrils of despair would kiss,

And steal the light from heart and head.

But dawn finds me a gardener now,

With gloves of resolve and will.

The weeds that choked my spirit down,

The creeping shadows stand still.

Each tendril pulled, each bloom I save,

A battle fought, a victory won.

The light breaks in, a promise brave,

My garden bursts towards the sun.