He said to her
You are a flower
A spring blossom
A rare beauty
I am but a gardener
A possessive one
Afraid to
Lose you
If you wither or wilt
It is my shame
I knew not
How to nurture you

My garden …
is barren
I ‘ve but seen …
only weeds,
in this bleakness
Do not blossom
How to love …
a thing of beauty,
So full of life
To my shame
I do not know