I run through the garden,
a labyrinth
of my life,
and still
I have not found
my center yet.
But I continue to run blind,
feeling the ray of sunlight
on my skin
or feeling the cold rain
soak down into me,
and I still run.
My fingers touch
the soft petals
of the red roses
that hug these green walls
of my prison
for love will never free
the person still locked inside.
I don't know who I am,
so how are you to know me?
And I still don't know
where I am going,
but I'll always desire for the day
to run through this world
instead of a garden
that I sleep in
with each passing moment.

Row of Flowers
by, Melissa R. Mendelson