Gardner
- Tabatha Jenkins
- Apr 9, 2017
- 1 min read
I gather your sadness
like weeds from
a garden.
I sow the common ground
after we've both sworn
it doesn't exist.
I'm always standing in the
empty lot with
all of my tools,
dirt covering my hands,
waiting for you to
come look.
You always find an
excuse
to stay in the house.
