The Botanist

***THe Botanist**** ((unedited so if its clumpy/exerted/irky let me know please need feedback ty very much!)


Inside the greenhouse, I find one I call the botanist,
she for some reason wears goggles, not spectacles,
she sews plants to life instead of knitting clothes or embroidery,
she has blonde hair and green eyes, shes quiet, determined, yet seemingly despondent?
her voice is sharp, soft, soothing and more importantly, has meaning,
this person is very interesting to me. it sweeps ones mind off into a flurry,
it is soo intriguing, to monitor the life of plants.
to write a stanza about flowers, about the colours,
abroad we weave roses together, sewing the pedals back together,
preserving the flowers within lamination,
the botanist utters, her breath cold, like icy mist,
strange and soothing, breathtaking and prudent.

Things going on in the greenhouse, watching her examining the plants,
like a doctor examining human patients, she handles them with gentle care,
like a daughter dying of cancer, the mother of black despair,
this is not real, she is only a fantasy ordeal,
having someone around so beautiful,
they would not call me freak or insult me, would be nice and not inconsiderate or make lies,
dishonesty is something i utterly despise,
ill find modest, ill find acute and honest,
beautifying, rosy, orderly, providing so much love, as i providing so much that,
the botanist is someone i wish to meet.
pity its something that will be sweep me off my feet,
but no i will have to arouse this strange persons attention by myself,
perhaps shell speak a foreign tongue, if I get a translator, it will translate her in riddles,
puzzlement, leaves hover over, autumn is a lovely season yes,
wish to walk with someone to love, when its autumn, perhaps she'll be into plants?

Awww, what a interesting study botany is........ pity I will never meet the botanist.