Love as a Garden

Love, in so many ways, is a garden

You can do everything in your power,

You find a soil of compatibility and chemistry

You can plant the seeds with kindness and care

you water with compassion and communication,

You can even give it the proper shine and shade of attention

 and what grows might even be beautiful

 Something so full in bloom

You might find yourself captivated by such a rose

You may even want to hold that rose you see as so precious to you

But even with all that work, that rose doesn’t belong to you

It’s thorns pierce if held too tightly 

It’s buds wilt if neglected

Either kind of gardener will see the pain in it

to watch it fade with time as the seasons change

to keep it alive is such a task

A gardener fond of such will blame himself

And maybe he made mistakes

The soil too rough and course

The seed never sprouts

the water too scarce or flooded

the sun and shade not to their liking

but the gardener still hopes for that rose

still wants so desperately for it live

but at the end, the gardener can only hope

can only watch the fruits of their labor

As it returns to the soil

One season will be the last for the gardener

and he may never find that rose to hold

But he never stops until he wilts away

For he himself is no different from what he plants