My Lover’s Flower By: Suzy Suburbanite My love is a gardener. She has but one flower; A flower delicate and needful. My love is a gardener. Her fingers a steady plow; Her tongue a buzzing bee. My love is a gardener. Tending her patch carefully; Nurturing her yearning bud. My love is a gardener. Cultivating my sodden furrow; Compelling my flower to bloom. My love is my gardener. My flower is her own. ------------------------- And who says suburbia is a cultural wasteland. suzy999999@yahoo.com Copyright 2002 Anonymous, Arlington VA USA