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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=483671" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>112</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row, <br>Tending the soil, cutting the grass, <br>Removing the weeds, <br>Pruning the lush greenery of trees<br>And making the flor-de-luna vines<br>Create a certain impression<br>Of a landscape, <br>A certain motif<br>A theme of gladness<br>Something to cherish</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I take a good look around my<br>Little garden<br>And then I would sit under the shade of flowering champaca trees throwing fragrance<br>Sprinkling perfume<br>The neighbors say that the scent of ylang-ylang even reaches their houses<br>And the white sampaguitas so exuding<br>I used to dirty my hands putting soil on the flower pots<br>Designing landscapes of love<br>And patience, curves and hills, <br>And tend to all the colors mixing in space, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I used to</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am telling you I stopped<br>When I married, <br>My wife comes to my garden<br>And rearranges everything<br>She puts what she wants<br>And pulls what she<br>Thinks repels her<br>She cuts the flowers<br>Puts them on the vase<br>And uproots some species<br>That I love<br>And soon the garden has not become mine<br>Crowded, and strange<br>And what used to be my little garden<br>Green Bermuda grass and patterns<br>Red Anthuriums heart shaped<br>Pink Dahlias praying to the sun<br>Orange Gumamelas dancing in the wind<br>And yellow dancing ladies beaming with pride<br>Olive Palms waiving to passers by with all cheers<br>Violets so assuming<br>White lilies in pure dignities<br>Lotuses in meditation moods<br>Husky Cactuses confident with thorns<br>Finger Ferns so fine and cool</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My garden<br>Now is a forest<br>The wanton chaos<br>My garden is gone<br>All the patterns changed<br>Drastically</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she asks me<br>She asks me<br>Why I don’t tend the garden anymore<br>She asks me<br>If something is wrong<br>If everything has gone wrong<br>She asks me if I still love my garden<br>She asks me if I can begin planting some seeds again</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She asks me if I still love her, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>AND THIS IS HOW I PRUNED IT: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I like gardens<br>I don’t tend the garden anymore<br>I still love her,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=483671" data-title="112 de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED: 

I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row, 
Tending the soil, cutting the grass, 
Removing the weeds, 
Pruning the lush greenery of trees
And making the flor-de-luna vines
Create a certain ..."></div>
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