Your Word is a walled garden, an Eden for my soul,
A land of treasure and serenity unfurled from a scroll.
Wisdom blooms always, soothing with her fragrance,
Promises tower, hope shades, joy ripe in the cadence.
In here I find great rest as the green plains elucidate,
Lifting me up as I lay down, restoring me as I ruminate.
Alas, the smog outside calls in cold debts of necessity,
So I close the gate again but keep my Eden next to me.
~Poet of Ephraim