What has happened to our garden?
The plants wilt in the shadows and I over watered with tears.
By the daisies, I buried shards from the plates we broke during disagreements.
By the lilies, I tore up our angry notes.
I fertilized the soil with the dust from our untouched photographs and I buried your cigarettes and my liquor that we often lied about in a deep hole near the pansies.
And then I walked away.
The truth is that there ain’t no farm girl in my freckles anymore. There ain’t no cowgirl in my eyes. I’m not that free-spirited adventurer; I’m just a gardener and a dreamer and a heavy-hearted woman.
I know that everyone has your number and that they call when I’m not there.
She could probably grow beautiful roses.
She could probably make the sunflowers touch the clouds.
All the Shes know your beauty, but they don’t know the color of your eyes.
One day, you came to help regrow our garden.
You came with a teacup filled with your tears.
You stared into my eyes and poured them into the dirt as you said good luck and as you said goodbye.
I looked up to the sky and felt the breeze until your footsteps disappeared.
I stayed there until the night just allowing the dreams inside me to rage and fight.
The truth is that there ain’t no banjo twang in my step anymore. There ain’t no moonshine in my soul. I’m not that wild woman screaming on the mountain-top; I’m just a gardener and a dreamer and a heavy-hearted woman.
We built our garden together in the backyard of our first home.
It was small and nestled next to our little bubbling creek.
We got our hands dirty with mud and worms and laughed until our bellies hurt.
It was then that you’d pull out your guitar and softly play sweet songs to soothe the fireflies.
Later in your arms, we would look and talk about what a beautiful garden we have made.
Baby, I always wanted to stay the most beautiful woman in your eyes.
I did what I could to be your queen, you see.
I’ll always come back to our garden, where I can smell your scent again.
And all day long I’ll linger here with memories strong and true.
I know that these are tough times but our thoughts can fly away with the wind through the mountains.
Because here in our garden, we can love, and dream, and fight, and never die.
The truth is that I know that there ain’t no blues in my blood anymore. There ain’t no freight trains that captivate my spirit. I don’t sleep on mountain-beds and I don’t run through the valleys. I’m just a gardener and a dreamer and I want to be your heavy-hearted woman.
Can we linger through the night and dance in our garden?
When we let go of all our fear and all lies and suspicion disappear, our garden will bloom again.
I stand here filled with trust and love and cheeks hot with passionate tears.
As the moonbeams shine on our faces, I want to be with you in our garden forever long.
Together in our garden, we will dream big dreams and love each other true forever.
The truth is that there ain’t no lack of love in my heart anymore. There ain’t no lack of desire for our future. I’m not that sad and scared girl searching for something fiction. Instead, I’m your gardener, your dreamer, and your full-hearted woman.