My Gardener?

by Mary Orji

The soil was coarse,

but your watering never ceased.

You pulled the weeds

that threatened my growth.

And I grew.

As seasons changed,

my roots and stem lengthened—

so did the greys in your follicles.

Thunderstorms came,

damaging the bridges that linked us.

And in our distanced spaces,

we stayed.

Today,

I extend my roots your way—

a brief olive branch

to say thanks

for sowing

and watering me