garden-keeper

Even our split was my submission. I left upon your first command. I wander down the cobbled steps I'd laid down underneath your hand. I crouch down low and tug the weeds in rancid strings deep from the sand, and realize tending this here earth is something you deeply programmed so that, suppose I were to leave, I'd cling to you before I ran. And now I'm stuck tending the weeds months after you fled this land. Playing keeper of this path, There's something I can't understand. There's so much beauty to my work, But still I dedicate it to a man.