The Carer

I dream of you some nights,
of possessing each bulb in your soul again
and nurturing shoots in the safety of terracotta
but you ought to know your protection was never guaranteed.

Catch me in a storm, welted by the hail, knotted in the breeze
and I'll let you freeze, wilt, rot, to protect myself.
It's not in my nature to reject another but I
will not hover over something that can be replicated.

My heart is not sore for your roots that have gone, it doesn't
sing long songs through Summer or create cradle graves in memory,
instead fills the space with late flowerers and hopes again
for a more comfortable position and willing mate.

I dream of you some nights
though I never speak it, our old affair - of the garden you would grow in,
healthier than in mine, of your companions and vigour.
I bestow pale bulbs to other lovers of plants.

I resign from your care.

#Garden  #Life  #Nurturing
Written by ImperfectedStone (P M Banks)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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