Transplant by arminmersmann
There’s an empty spot in this garden plot in the shape of you
Bare, dead earth–no longer fertile
Nothing will grow here
The moment has passed
But the true caretaker, living up to their expectations
Carefully cultivated this land surrounding your place
And in it, a bounty
A garden that is surely thriving far more than if you’d stayed
Even with its exposed wounds of dried soil
The whole is affected by your negligence
And no attempts at placating will prompt this land to flourish
Can this garden be considered beautiful?
Even with your foolish mistakes?
Would you even know beauty if you saw it?
Questions only you can answer, but never will
I see charm here, potential in spite of this empty space
And maybe what you see
If anything at all
Doesn’t matter anymore