Erin's Garden

Erin's garden is dry and brown.

Water falls and swerves in all directions

away from its vines and leaves; the 

pedals, long ago, crisped under the sun

and the stems slouched in solemn pain

towards the sullen Western ground,

dust-kist and warm.

Erin's garden wins no prizes.

Erin's garden wins my heart.

The End

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