The spring when we began
to slowly withdraw from one another
Began with the two of us
gardening
Inserting seeds into soil
Transplanting bushes
Molding the earth to fit our design
We foolishly believed that
The stronger the roots of our garden
The more likely we could survive
You, with your straw hat
And your mother’s green thumb
Me, with my endless questions
And my father’s clumsiness
I wonder what it looks like now,
On the eastern side of our old backyard
In the house we wanted to grow into,
If it’s still blooming with a distant, echoing love.
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