Perfumed Through

You worked the dirt. You chose
her out of all the others, told her
to be patient, but "some day"
kept stretching farther away.
Those first pushes through earth,
you saw her straining, reaching
for you, for you, but coyness cloys
when you want to take root.
You are still the sun, burning one,
but your garden girl is plucked,
potted, and perfumed through.