I want to hold you inside my hands
And carry you with me.
I want you to see mornings in full bloom
I want you to see open fields of tired harvesters,
Wiping sweat off their brows.
I want you to smell the dirt and rain and feel the mud against your calloused hands
Because you'll never have sunflowers without the sunburns.
You can't wait until August for basil and herbs to stem from fictional roots.
You have to wake up at 5 a.m. to move pipes,
You have to blister your toes on the hundred degree concrete,
You have to work through pain and anxiety to feel warmth
To feel new
To feel anything at all.
If you want a garden full of roses,
You have to plant them.