Carole’s Garden

She would tend plants
in the community space,
pulling up weeds,
that sort of thing.
She wore long flowing outfits
worried not at all
at how the dirt would treat her clothes.
Covered in mud
she was still the most beautiful flower
in attendance
and I immediately wanted to pluck her.

I had a black thumb
so there was no common ground
in which our love could grow
but still I circled Carole’s garden
if only to watch her
one of many admirers
part of her own personal corolla.

I still wonder
if there was some was some seed
I could have planted within her
so that she and I could become something huge.
We could have risen up
into a thing so lovely
we could shroud the sun.

But eventually
like all the other weeds
I was taken out and removed
from her wonderful world of green.

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