My baby has a garden inside
That’s never grown as planned
Weeds and sprouts and oddball things
But nothing on demand.
For 30 years she kept her watch
As the garden just lay barren
Even worse came uglier things
Borne of toil, blood, and barrow
The garden blossomed only twice,
Once in summer, once in fall–
Two wild flowers, but constant and true
Who grew, but that’s not all–
Their tendrils twined around our hands
Their blooms up to the sun
Their gentle stems a balm to us
Their roots where they’d begun
And now we see the garden’s gone
But oh, what’s left behind–
Proof that when the world’s gone mad
The best buds stay behind