Garden

I’m sorry. I watched you box up the conversational life And kick it across the sod. I watched you weep at the rain that softened everything. Things are not the same; They are not as they seem. We wind up the dream And then we wait for the grass to turn green; For the explosion; Something more than just anything. My head was full like a watering can; I hit the ground at your feet. You just dragged along with your high hopes, Your apron full of the glass walls that you broke. Picking up the shards on your bare hands and knees, Wondering if anyone could ever really see. You are bent and I am gashed beyond words; My hands just tremble when I watch you yearn. If I were some tall thing, then you might believe, That in another life, it’d always be me.