My hands covered in soil, feeling soft earth
Resolve to nurture her life back to green
My fingers caress the decadent dirt
Tending to flower buds lately unseen
Scouring fertile hopes into their beds
Envisioning spring in bright, splendid hues
Wiping my face --were those tears or just sweat?
I could just leave them if that's what I choose
It would be wrong to abandon them now
In almost-full-bloom from hard work and care
I've resigned myself to fulfill the vow
I can't leave them to wilter in despair
Digging deep into the hard, solid core
I feel weak, and my arms have become sore
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