I have a garden
full of baldheaded,
bifocaled therapists
with sofas, chairs
and shelves of esoteric books.
I water them once a day
with my problems and concerns,
fertilize them
with plenty of pain
and angst.
I make sure
they have sufficient sunlight
to jot down notes,
and plenty of space to say:
What would you
like to talk about?
And, that’s all the time
we have today.
I prune the issues
I worked through,
weed the therapists
who lose their
objectivity,
and compost
all my childhood
memories.
©️mft
Crow On The Wire 
The garden is very beautiful and your poem both clever and funny.
U.k. Does not have a big tradition on going to therapists so we know more from reading
literature from e.g. U.S 😊
miriam
Who do you think is better off emotionally and psychologically?
Love this !
Thanks, Mush. 🙂
Not at all MT, it’s very clever and makes me think I should have a garden lol.
🙂
Beautifully expressed. There are good and bad therapists. If you are lucky you get a good one, sometimes a friend can help too, but we walk alone in life and the wisest of us are gardeners of our souls.
like that, gardeners of our souls. rings true in this moment as i’m in the MLK museum.
Such a unique and funny personification….
thank you.
welcome
Love the line about composting our childhood memories. They do seem to color the rest of our days, for good or ill. I’ve never been in therapy, though probably should have at different times in my life. But your poem does capture that ironic sense of the process I’ve gathered from seeing it acted out in movies and such.
Thank you, Deborah. 🙂
Love the way you compared the personal feel with beautiful imaginary garden
Thank you.