The garden dried and the gardener died...

I fell sick one day, there was no one around.
‘Fate was calling me to itself’ that was the only heard sound.
One moment I felt my white beard
and the next, cough followed as an unorganized herd.

There was no one to fetch me a glass of water.
I wished I could have strong body parts back then.
Should I laugh or cry that over my head I found a shelter?
A dog with its tail between the legs was no different than my lane.

Rewinding my tape back to the brighter past
took me to the garden where I sowed the seeds once.
It pricked my heart deep every time it occurred,
that those seeds had grown up into my reputed sons.

They worked hard as hell and earned a million as gold,
shook hands with very similar hands every day,
all from a different garden and all equally reputed.
Every night they did come home but didn`t know what to say.

I`d talk to my garden seriously and she would smile,
I`d spend my whole day looking at the clear sky.
Sometimes I`d tell her about the infinitely growing tress,
but being a mother she`d reply ‘It`s all a lie’.

I worked hard to earn them the best bread;
and made sure that they get the additional butter.
During the night I`d kept them close,
although they were adults then, still I eyed narrowly on the shutter.

That was the time, I played tree as well
but I never gave up on my gardener.
I always watched him from the top as he grew old
till the day he left as does a visitor.

Time passed and they got their own gardens.
The race for more gold pinnacled eventually,
their status in the society made them so occupied that
they let go their gardener as time demanded practically.

They didn`t once glanced down from that height.
One day the garden dried burying all her screams and tears inside.
The gardener was at once all alone by himself
and wished there were no more seed to slide.

He sought for shelter, they gave him the roof,
he sought for food, they provided all the bread.
When he sought for a little time, they all refused.
After playing his part, he ought not a single drop to shed.

He fell sick one day, there was no one around.
‘Fate was calling him to itself’ that was the only heard sound.
One moment he felt his white beard
and the next, there was no more future he might have feared.