The Reluctant Gardener
I note the nuance of your kissing
and intuit that I’ll soon be missing
even the last tiny spark
of what we once had in the dark
that, exposed to light of day,
has gradually seeped away.
The occult pleasure of new romance
should, when given half a chance,
bloom and flourish in the light
and with another, surely might.
But something’s absent in your heart
that forbids true love a start.
Some emptiness or darker need
is prone to killing commitment’s seed.
You dig new hole after new hole
with germination no final goal.
Whatever hopes you might have planted,
today you have clearly recanted.
The prompt today was nuance.