There was a wall growing between us, made of clover and salt. It made the air taste bitter sweet, but more bitter with each insult. You on one side, me on the other, we tended our garden wall with very little clue. We had no warning it would keep me from you. The wall grew vines that would wrap around our hearts, tightening it firmly until every muscle ached. And our hearts grew so fragile that we knew they would break. Still we stood there, willing to let the clovers spread. Though in all that life, something was now dead. You found such pleasure in all the little blooms, little did you know they would be our doom. With each little clover leaf our hearts were dragged into darkness down below. Let us bury them and from the cold earth something else might grow. Though we tried planting love, many moons ago, our love turned to salty tears that made our wall garden grow.