My memory is a garden

My memory is a garden
that cannot now grow
flowers
and the weeds
are rank
where once you walked

i love the weeds
for they too
are never looked at
twice

my heart’s ease
begs
by the sidewalk
of your attention

wild flowers
still grow
where once we walked
and i pick them
one by one
in case you pass by again
and think
those stupid flowers!