Carry me home.
In a box. In a bag. In the palm of your hand.
Plant me deep. Let the rain give me
life. Do not share me. Keep me secret.
Bury my legs in the corner of
the garden. Let my eyes catch the
sunlight. Give me a white picket fence. A small
one, one used for model houses. Make
me feel beautiful. Special. Yours only.
Yours truly. Stay with me. When you’re
blue, make use of those tears. Feed me.
Water me with your cries and I will
become beautiful. For you. I will bloom.
And when Spring comes and goes. When my
hair turns to dirt and my legs feed the
worms, remember me. Plant another, yes,
plant another and treat her well. But
remember me. For I was the one you first
carried home. I was the one who gave
first seed to your garden. Remember me,
for I will forget myself. Remember me
when the rain falls that one summer
afternoon and the water paints your face
gold. Take my center. Press it in between
one of the books I gave you and you never read.
Hang me upside down and dry me out. You may put me in a box. In a bag. And every
now and again, you may place me in the
palm of your hand, and remember. I hope
you remember. This is the only wish.
Remember me as your garden grows.