My Adoring Gardener

Oh, when can you come?
To prune these sagging branches.
To take away these drooping petals.
To remove this browning foliage.
Yet to leave these living buds,
From which my honeyed bouquet
Still exudes, sweetly into the air.

Will you hold, till I expire,
My badly bruised body?
As I devote my sundown years,
To you, my adoring gardener.

Never regret our brief encounter,
Or the years of our entwined breathing lives.
Paint my life, with broad black brush strokes.
Add the splashes of the colour that you brought to me.

My heart is flickering now.
It will soon stop.
Let us not sleep until
You have told me all.

Those foreign lands,
Those rugged highlands and streams,
Those dawns and sunsets,
And the people that you met.

I will love you forever.
And as I fall asleep,
I will love you again.
I am at peace. I have no guilt.

Oh, when can you come?
To prune these sagging branches.
To take away these drooping petals.
To remove this browning foliage.
Yet to leave these living buds,
From which my honeyed bouquet
Still exudes, sweetly into the air.


Originally posted in February 2015. See my Titbits page
I just felt the need to re-share it this evening.

About Lance Greenfield

Blog: lancegreenfield.wordpress.com email: lancegmitchell@outlook.com I published my debut novel in December 2014: Eleven Miles. My second novel went live in February 2016: Knitting Can Walk!
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