deepundergroundpoetry.com

Horticulture

I prefer my trees
My flowers, shrubs
And weeds

They fill my lungs with petal breath
Never refuse breakfast
No.. plants are easy

People have a way with disappointment and complaining, though Iíve tried
Friends
Such uncooperative beings

Thatís why, I choose gardening
Sweet little sprouts, buds
Thorns
All in rows for me to tend..
Even the sun acknowledges my efforts
It labors with me

Many seasons I have gone
Without someone to water me
Hold my hand
Trim my leaves
Now, look at me!
Unkept, scraggly
I feel it wonít be long
Before my body begins
Withering
Though part of it has already begun
Decomposing

Thatís why I prefer my trees
My flowers, shrubs
And weeds

I will admit, some days
I fail at sprinkling their roots
Not sure if itís fatigue, or downright
Neglect

But I get up, once ready
Replenishing soil
With their watering can
Following, they reward me
In floral dance

I sow my company in pots outside
At a distance
Just far enough to see
But not quite close enough to prick
Too many things Iíve lost
As if these hands of mine are cursed
Grow them far, or I just might kill
Those too.
Thetravelingfairy
Written by Thetravelingfairy
Published
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