The gardener

 

You left and I stayed

in the lovely orchard we’d built,

The garden, flowers, fruits, leaves,

where the soul now grieves,

Memories scattered around like

an autumnal drizzle of leaves,

And me like a gardener

hoeing, pruning, spading,

Working to bloom spring flowers in autumn,

Trying to undo the fall,--

the autumn that permanently

descended and sat upon the orchard,

Coloring it with yellow-brown colors of fall,--

Forever,

Toils where the gardener of springs

in an autumn-possessed orchard.