Two plants

A plant called love
A plant called hate

I grew them both 
in my garden.
The plant called love was hard work.

All the watering
with tears of joy.
Not to mention the fact
that I talked to it.

The plant called love
ignored my words.
Or so it seemed.
It was in no hurry.

But the plant called hate
grew just like that.
I never fed it
or watered its roots.

Never spoke a word
to that plant called hate.
My thoughts were enough
to make it grow fast.

Will the birds be able
to tell the difference
when my plant called love
offers its slow green?

From Inside Out. 

• talking about the plants in this poem.