What can look idyllic,
Can be a heart that's sore
For years I will have watched,
And hoped for that and nothing more.
The grass isn't always greener,
There can be dangers in the weeds.
You can lose established happiness,
When you start planting seeds.
You can get lost in your own garden.
Forget your own way home.
I'm still working out if I've retreated,
Or if this is what they call grown.
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