The Gardener
Thin and lean he came to glean
His sickle shining with the summer sheen
My branches to trim and make me slim
My roots to prod and soil to skim
He tended to me as a mother would a child
Apprising from afar and staring for a while
Down came the pruner’s shears and he took a neat nip
Threw aside the branch and took another dip
He looked at me in pleasant satisfaction
And gave me a small smile for a fraction
Came the night watchman, my fears to amplify
Plucked all my flowers, his deity to pacify
Naked I stood, my beauty he took
Should we not punish the disguised crook?
Copyright © Venetia Crasta | Year Posted 2019
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