The Gardener
You water me
that I may grow
lush and luxurious
you prune me
when my branches stray
too far out or too high
you mulch me when
you think I may
wilt or die
you nurture me as if
I’m too frail to stand
on my own
as if without you
I may fail to thrive
in truth, maybe it is you
who needs me,
to survive.
© Neetu Malik
Listen to Neetu read The Gardener
-
Shall we dip our brush
in the deep blue dusk
so we may paint joy
we stole from
the passing day
before it grows dark? -
all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart— -
sultry afternoon
in the vast cornfields
reaping gold -
I wait eagerly
for absolute darkness
to lose my shadow -
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream
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