Day 48: Bushy

This suspended garden on top of my head:

Years ago all I saw were brambles

I raked through it, cutting and tugging

The garden whispered:

Leave me be

I pruned it and fertilised it

The curly branches straightened and lengthened

Feeling in control I commanded, ‘Garden! behave!’

The garden replied:

Leave me be

Years later the jet-black flowers had lost their lustre

The tumbleweeds were nowhere in sight

The roots were weak and bare

The shoots were frayed and naked

The garden screamed:


And I finally complied

The vines grew and stretched into curls that cascaded over my forehead

Enveloping my neck in luscious blooms from behind

Now here I am

Back at where I started

With a majestic bramble

This suspended garden on top of my head is watered



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