To Be Gardened

Your roses may look refined.

Your dandelions may look dancing,

But those flowers aren’t mine.

I want my ivy interwinding over the fence.

The compost you find disgusting,

I find it delightful.

You bought my soil, I want my dirt.

I want my rabbit holes,

Going farther the further down

Winding further than anyone knows.

You may think those things are

Hideous, and horrid and should be gone.

I love them as much as I love you.