Marigold

You and I are one

In fear of loneliness

And danger of neglect.

We're apt to wither in distress.

Cold rush of water fills

This rusted tin of corn

And all to risk a prick

From your neighbor Rose's thorn.

Come on, Marigold, where's that geekish grace?

The moon is mute and cold.

Let your sweet breath fill the space.

Soon you will bloom into

A woman, pure and royal.

You'll be released for good

From the black prison of this soil.

I'll show you to the streams.

We'll run through woods and moors

'Til you can smell the sea.

Watch the tides embroider shores.

Come on, Marigold, when will the sun replace

Your leaves with arms to hold,

And your petals with a face?

They placed you on the sun-drenched side

And whispered while the earth around you dried.

Your throat quenched only 'cause you cried.

While everything you'd grown up with had died.

All you had had died.

Come on, Marigold, where's that geekish grace?

The gods are growing old!

Tell me when can we embrace?