Gardens

I tend my garden in the morning light,
planting seeds that speak to my soul.
Your garden grows with different flowers —
neither better, neither whole.

My roots reach deep in certain soil
while yours may thrive in stone.
The beauty that I cultivate
was never meant for you to own.

Some nurture roses, others herbs,
some let wildflowers freely spread.
Each garden holds its own design,
each path deserves to be tread.

My fence is not to keep you out
but to define what’s mine to grow.
Your vines may climb a different way —
there’s wisdom in what you know.

The rain falls equally on all,
the sun shares warmth without decree.
Nature knows no favorites here;
each bloom is meant to be.

So tend your plot with loving care,
I’ll nurture what I’ve grown.
The earth is vast enough for both
our gardens, each our own.