The Gardeners

Two men kept flower gardens
And tended them with care.
Each day they fed their flowers
Which grew up fine and fair.

And when their flowers bloomed,
Their hearts were filled with pride.
To see the wonders of their work
Completed them inside.

One man kept his flowers close
And shared them with no one.
But when his plants began to wilt
He wondered what he’d done.

The other man took up his flowers
And placed them here and there.
In hospitals and nursing homes,
They showed up everywhere.

The second man went home alone
And sat down in his chair.
He missed his pretty flowers
That were no longer there.

But he was grateful knowing that
His flowers had moved on.
The joy of watching how they bloom
And seeing where they’d gone.

The first man never felt the joy
His flowers might have brought.
The second man was happy;
The first gardener was not.

  • Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.