Poets use words the way a gardener grows a garden
From the seeds of their ideas, buried deep
Soon the sprouts come, though they take time
And emerge out from a world of sleep

To grow, to flourish, to become
Bright and flowery and colorful with leaves and stems
Most important, little buds of thought
Begging for you to explore them

Each thought, each idea is now buried deep
‘Neath flowery metaphors and similes like boughs
Each seed, each sown, is waiting
For you to burrow down

For you to look below the soil
To find the roots of it all
An imaginary garden
Where ideas grow so tall