The end of gardening

Oh delicate flower on the other side of a fence
so long have I coveted your scent
A white washed barrier and few feet of grass
seperate me from the memory of past

Oh delicate flower so many years ago
every fall you'd bloom while i admired a rose
I haven't seen you for a year at least
Soon to be made part of a bouquet at a feast

Throw away the gloves and shears
This is the end of gardening