Once she cultivated the gardens of others, watching them grow.
But now her garden lies parched and unkempt. 

Were their gardens more splendid and variant in beauty?
Were they more grandeur and elegant in style? 

Did the excitement of tilling the soil of strange lands
And the enjoyment she gave others, stimulate her life? 

Does she now feel confined by the narrow plot she owns?
Or, has her interest simply been redirected to other avocations? 

Whatever, her garden now lies barren,
Beyond resurrection, Even by the most plentiful rains.