A Lost Garden

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At morning my lover brought his hours
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to me. The many things he had to do
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀were more important to his work, but
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he put all those off until I was through
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀telling him my dreams, pleasures, cares.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Until I made myself think the worst: one
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀such as him find worth in one such as me?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe he saw something, I can’t say, but
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀think it too good to be true, and eventually
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you hear yourself scream, “Leave me alone.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀So I was. He told me I’d want him to leave
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀once I found my own way, promised he’d
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀do as I would ask, sure enough did so, but
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀what now? Me, I neglect the garden we’d
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀seeded, hoping to quit forgetting to love.



by sheila with cyn
revising lost garden


About this entry