"Regrowth" by Emma Farmer
Crumpled, dead, and sickly-saturated Deepset, in the buried root, the rot ruins. Although the visual blooms and leaves flourish, the core of amity between two, the now rotted roots require anew.
Like a gardener to her plot, The mature must trim the rot. Pruning, prying, pulping, with each action, The wise free themselves of another leeching faction.
Wrenching away the remaining rations, A good steward sows her few remaining prospects. In the best receptacle it fits. Not in the low pursuit of the haughty, rude, or obsessive, But in the hope of new confidants and memories made, No rotten relation is spared the spade.
Having pruned and pulled the culpable diseased, A meticulous manager delves into the prospect of new seed. The now wiser, piously proposes what and when to boon, Lest her alternate affinity be sprung up, too quick or too soon. An impatient gardener would have no one left to prune.
Bountiful and hard-earned, a child of regrowth soars, Touching the heights of relish in the purposefully watered connections. Not chosen on grounds of benefit or loss, evident in immediate imagery, But on the wisdom of other gardeners, passing on counsel. Presenting, Pruning, Prepping, Perseverance, and Payoff. Intentionality tends to a garden, not a feverish whim.