Parable of the frangipani

That tall,

leafless

stick of a plant

I thought needed water

I tended each morning

the constant gardener

till the real gardener came back from leave

and told me it was dead

slicing a stalk to show me

it was hollow as a straw.

All this time I lavished my love on this plant

and had killed it

& I couldn’t help but see

the seeds of a parable here

one that Jesus or Buddha could have touched on.

It just needed cultivating, that’s all.