To the Gardner-
My mother who planted me with the utmost care.
To the Destructor-
A father that still seemed to be a stranger till the very end.
To the Withered Flowers-
Even the best apologies couldn't make up for how late I was to warn you.
And to the Sapling-
To You.
Who still stands tall despite your allies being withered.
YOU ARE READING
Her Garden
PoetryAnd the destructor had wilted, All that the gardener had cared for.
