How Proud Your Roses Made You

How proud your roses made you,
your petunias, crepe myrtles,
forget-me-nots.
I'll always remember
the boxwood
neat and trimmed
and true.

Each time we moved
you got so sad
at the thought
of leaving
all that work behind
but in each place
you'd start again,
it was something
in you--some
planter's yen.

How proud your roses made you
How you loved to have
friends tour,
They smelled and touched,
ooh'd and ah'd
I remember you looked
demure.

How proud your roses made you--
I'm glad it was a pride
you never outgrew.