The gardener takes me into his garden. He lets me recognize the names of his plants, and tells me the names of those I don't know of when I ask him. He says I can have all the bits of earth I want, to plant seeds in, to make things grow; he offers them even when unasked for.
The gardener compares me to the shapes and colors of flowers. He finds their scent and mine are the same.
The gardener knows the right remedy, and places it under my pillow.
When I wake up, I find freshly cut chamomile and marigold on the night table.
Etiquetas: The Gardener