Kay Middleton

A gnome in the garden of love

It is the fate of a garden gnome to hold

unrequited love in his fist like a bunch

of wild flowers, un-arranged and drooping

in random disorder as dew drips down

his cheek like a real tear. Does he truly

cry when we are turned away and magic

awakens the yard ornaments?  Or is it

my own storybook-fantasy-imagination?