Poem : The Gardener's Rhyme

I woke up today, in the world of my own, 
with seeds of my future, that were already sown.
I stood up and lived through another set of hours, 
the seeds of my past that had now become flowers.

Half-heartedly, I watered them with the bottle of my time,
hoping that my heart would be happy with their shine.
But I couldn't understand, why they still seemed dull to me,
was it my lack of effort, or was it something I couldn't see?

I sat on the grass with these musings in my mind,
and opened the newspaper to see a world void of kind.
But between all the negativity, I finally found that column,
the one that I read every week, the one I found solemn.

It was written by a girl, someone I had known for a while,
we shared a common dream, and yet she was further a mile. 
And in this world I had lived, which was ever so steep,
even centimetres of altitude was a worthy goal to seek.

She narrated her journey, of her peaks and pitfalls,
of the doors that opened for her, of how she faced the walls.
And I devoured every drop of it, every strand of what she said,
it seemed like my only way, to taste the path that she led.

I closed the paper, got up, and went back to watering my plants,
it was the only thing, that I could do among my numerous "can't"s.
And maybe I had my answer of why my flowers never shine,
but I will not spell it out, it might just ruin this gardener's rhyme.

-Sushant Kumar Das