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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018



Hibiscus and hydrangea,

I thought love was a tree in the forest

or a rose by the bed

A penitent offering

or a pernicious vine

To my constant delight

and chagrin

Life consistently proves me wrong.

And I am learning 

Love can be a succulent 

a conifer

or an orchid

Love can die at the first frost

and rise again 

year after year

in a cycle governed by elements

out of our control.

Rain and snow

the sun and moon

and celestial bodies unknown

in this life or the next.

I offer this up to you- this prayer for rain

for sunshine, for dirt.

A quiet wish for the loving touch of a conscientious gardener.

May we always give our love the attention and care it deserves.

And may we adapt from one climate to the next. 

© Copyright 2019 Henry Jameson. All rights reserved.

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