Oh gardener of the soul. Do you smell of two lovers alone? The roses you planted are now intertwined, kissing only when the breeze blows.

Oh gardener of the mind. Do you smell of explosive happiness? The lilies you sowed into the ground are now blooming violently. Like explosions in July, they gather temporary admirers, if only for a day. If only for a moment. Making the loneliest of people smile at the defiant nature of these flowers in winter.

Oh gardener of the heart. Do you smell of copacetic feelings and romantic sunsets? The flowers you planted for your bouquet are now too beautiful to cut. Yet your lover's eyes twinkle at the snapdragons and peonies you so lovingly implanted into the ground.

Gardener of the universe. You planted gentle flowers and weeds atop my roof, they grew from the rain that you watered. They give me hope. They give me a sense of that my aching bones and ailing organs will serve as fertilizer for the flowers you grow. And I am okay with that.