When I was just a young thing
first starting out alone,
I moved to an apartment
where the backyard was my own.
A strip of land ran 'round that yard
with sticks and bricks and things,
and I wondered what would happen
if I worked back there, come spring.
The landlord said some little man
had once, so long ago,
planted roses by the hundreds,
but now, you'd never know.
Just rocks and boards and ugly stuff
filled up those garden rows.
It was hard to picture rose beds there
even with my eyes tight closed.
I clipped the bushes to the ground,
laid fresh soil with my rake,
then watched from my back porch,
hoping they would stretch and wake.
That spring I gaped in wonder
as the buds slowly gave birth
to petals purple, red, and pink,
a rainbow here on earth.
|
Author Notes
This was my first solo apartment, way back when. I had the bottom floor of a giant Victorian house, and after working for hours and days pulling rubble from the backyard perimeter, over 100 breeds of roses sprung forth and kept my apartment alive with color and scent well into November.
|
|
