Organically Grown

You were witness to my first kiss,
my first public appearance in court,
my first wrinkle

my first bad hangover,
you rode in my hideous joke of a car,
You held my first born,
when I planted my rose garden
You were there telling me
“shovel deeper,
and with your company, I discovered
black with richness, new soil,
beneath the sharp metal edge of my trowel.
Every year I added a new rose,
but never have they been as resistant to my harsh pruning,
never as immune to disease, never have their
blossoms been as as silky or fragrant,
as the one I planted with you

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