I decided to keep a flower box,
outside a window with a rusty lock,
I based it with tender soil,
and water left to boil.
I planted, with careful hands,
flowers fit for the greatest of lands,
I let them soak in the sun's rays,
watching them grow for days and days.
Each day I poured, with determined stealth,
boiled water to keep their health,
I swooned and sighed at their beautiful sight,
eagerly waiting first bloom at first light,
but with all desperate love and care,
these shaking hands had not been fair;
boiled water drooled through the box,
and like a thousand shattered clocks
I broke down in quiet sorrow of what I'd found,
careful lovely flowers withered and drowned.