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My Mr Gatsby The problem was, I loved your garden,
but sadly, didn't love you too -- well, not as much, and not enough.
I knew I couldn't marry you. I loved the rhododendron drive,
the statues and the topiary. I loved the cedars on the lawn.
You loved them too, and you loved me. I loved the gorgeous lily pond,
a thousand blossoms floating there! I loved the kitchen garden too --
your own fresh produce everywhere. I loved the greenhouse -- what a dream,
with loads of overhanging vines, and what is more, enough of them
to make your own delicious wines. I loved the banks of lavender --
a mass of them, a stunning show, and gazing at the roses there
while sitting on your patio. The love affair was not to be.
I loved your garden, that was true -- but never loved you quite as much --
that's something that I couldn't do. And what a crying shame that was --
to love your garden with a passion, and love it so much more than you,
and not, alas, in equal ration.