Gardening

while gardening
in the blindness of my mind
I come upon a memory of you
as my hands in the soil
would find a shard of greenhouse glass

and what once wrapped sun's heat
kept night's chill out
cuts my skin
lets this sense of loss in
like grit

yet time grows
unplanted
not as I want
and I know it has beautiful flowers
if I could but stop hurting, look