The Manifestation of Care or Whatever

There's something about gardens.
A lot of things. About them, Actually.

There's the caretaker, for one
A plant can't thrive without nurture
Poured love into flourishing leaves
A letter of desire and affection to one
Who needs so little
Except the irreplaceable currency of

There's the onlookers, for another.
The rosebushes who delight and prick
The youth that misunderstands them
The bushels of spice that
Scent and flower the air
Those who see the
Flourishing lovely

There's the decay
The finality of a garden stays true
Beyond our own lives
A garden in the end
Is forgotten
And unruly weeds replace
The time that was lovingly provided
The memories happily taken

And the ending
Exactly what it was
Before the garden
Could even be

The Manifestation of Care, or Whatever