My Almost Garden

This is the garden I thought I’d grow

In my mom’s backyard and have my own tomatoes.

I would tend it and it would blossom for me

Like an obedient child with a gift for mommy.

It would be surprisingly bountiful

And people would exclaim over my efforts

And of course, my spectacular tomatoes.

This is the garden I thought I’d grow

In my mom’s backyard and have my own tomatoes.

This plot of gnarled roots and soiled ceramic pots.

With no tomatoes, gifts or exclamations

This is my sacred place

And there are no hungry, tomato craving visitors

To spoil the fruit of dusty comfort among the vines.