"Gardener Good" - by me

The touch of water, I do feel
Primal epiphany

Growing and rising, I do reel
The sun I rise to see

Pedals stretching, my stem raising
My blossoming is nigh

My potential is amazing
A sprig no more am I.

On my flank a progenitor
A cast of what is me

Pollinates effervescent lore
Is this what I will be?

Ushering with whispering tales
Of seasons long gone by

Of farmers plows and mighty gales
And predators that fly

But not all cursed, for also told
Good news of Gardener Good

Who hummed a hymn of streets of gold
And on this garden stood

He spoke of loving his flowers
Perennials we were

He said he gave us our showers
And he, witherings cure

But Gardner Good had said goodbye
And has not been seen since

My forerunner looks to the sky
Waiting, ever so tense

How proud I am to learn from you
My wise parental plant

To learn what not and what to do
Argue with you, I can’t

Our stature now identical
Our symmetry achieved

I’ve grown to reach my pinnacle
Achievement of the seed

Our matching zeniths, but a wisp
So short they coincide

Drooping under the solar disk
Death says you must abide

As I see my sire tire
My petals writhe with grief

My author with wilt is mired
Pulled in by Death the thief

My gaze is pulled away from hence
When at my side I hear

Out of the soil, like a lance
A new seedling appears

Though barely tall enough to reach
A large grasshopper’s knee

I start to remember and teach
All that was taught to me

I tell it about the hard times
But too, of Gardener Good

I repeat the stories and lines
Just like my parent would

Content I feel about its growth
And how its’ roots go deep

Reveling in our life, us both
When I feel weakness creep

I can not hold my leaves up high
Or bloom much anymore

As I sink with heavier sighs
And my tall stem so sore

To the young one over again
I tell of Gardner Good

How his fine love has always been
Again see him we would

I feel now my death approaching
It’s knocking at my door

I hear my ancient’s wise coaching
To its’ hope, hearken more

In winning fashion, the sun pounds
Zapping away my zest

I kneel my belfry to the ground
And tell my roots to rest

But as my roots release their dirt
They are again renewed

I can nere believe death so curt
But truly pain has soothed

For where there once was sun-baked ground
There stands a bright, white vase

I bend up high and look around
And see a smiling face

He says “My name’s Gardener Good,
And welcome to my home.

I knew that coming here you would
From the time you were sown.”

I see on the shelf beside me
The one who came before

The one who taught me how to be
From which my form was forged

Empty vase also beside me
The place was not yet filled

Ah yes, I know, it is to be
For my offspring when healed

Gardener Good says, “I told you so.
Perennials you are.

Now here forever you can grow.
You and I never far.”

Leave Gardener Good, I will never
It’s Joy to be with him

Perennial life forever
A life that never dims