This time of the year

That a garden is a relationship, dawned hard on me today.
I called to see my green lady,
she answered in defiant disarray.
You left me here
untattended, for weed and such to clamour and turn up months later to expect my normal glamour.
Not an ounce of attention ,not a touch of hand or glove
and here you stand, with tool in hand, expecting of my love.
A weekend spa won’t do it , shes not that sort of girl.
But many hours of unforgiving work, at redemption I must toil.
To get things back on track,
my brow must sweat, my back must crack.
A lesson for all relationships,
that attention is the least
expensive way to save the day,
lest beauty becomes a beast.