Return to the Garden of Imagination

Where have gone
my witty days,
Those days of whimsical imagination,
Full of warm creative thoughts,
Seeds of wonder,
Impossible things
Waiting to grow.

Why do I
find myself here,
Right now,
So tired
and bereft of joy?

What is the reason
That my imagined worlds
Aren’t bursting
with impossible ideas?

When can I return
to a time
When I feel
I am worth a little more
Than the way
I am treated?

Surprisingly,
I do know the answer.
And it’s okay.

It’s
because right now
My mind is healing,
Processing,
Restocking its shelves,
Making sure
things are okay.

After some time passes,
The other me
will return.

And he will share
his dreams,
His humour,
And his discoveries.

Writing and dreaming
About all the impossible things
We love.

Things that the current me
Cannot provide.
Not yet.

He will unlock
That gate again.
He will open it,
And I will walk through,
Into that garden.

Where the impossible grows,
Where strange ideas bloom,
Where dreams wander freely,
And imagination
Has no boundaries.

The garden is still there.
I just need
to find the key.