This is a story bout a man named Jed.
The sweat between their hands
watered the dry plantation.
The absence of plants dispirited
all of their hopes and aspirations.
Even when they both let go,
they continued to work until dark,
but nothing they could muster up was enough
to feed their yearning hearts.
Sometimes he'd come home with dirt under his eyes
and blisters on his heels.
He'd callously blame the woman
for the fact that nothing would grow in their field.
So, one day she gathered her things
and left the unfertile farm,
leaving only a note on the field
that read, "It's all yours."