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Writer's pictureSydney Elizabeth Chandler

Carry Me Home

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.

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