the hortaculturist

entry no. 12 ⸻ kailie tries poetry (again)

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“boy with a basket of fruit” by carravagio

remember when you told me you wanted to start
a garden with me?

you told me, remember?
so i thought you wanted to start, with me.

the hydragenas bloom this time of year.
i can see them now,
in my mother's garden. 
on occasion i think about the ones we saw,
the ones along the park. remember then?

i remember watching you tend to the fruit of love
with delicate care 
of time, of temperance.
nurturing a body into wholeness,
into a bounteous entity yielding, to you:
the juice of sweetness, a delicate 
nectar emerging from the fragility of my being.

i preserved a bouquet you gave me 
and hung it on my bedroom wall. 
i remember my mother had told me 
some of the flowers were forget me nots.
it fell from my wall in the night
and so, i faced the remains when i woke. 

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the ‘torn page’ (or notes app note, rather) that inspired this entry

As always, thank you for reading. Much love.

Kailie