The Democidal Gardener
I find time at the decline of summer,
To inspect the beds of youth now perished,
Whom, I brought home from the garden centre,
With optimistic intent to cherish.
But the care-tags, staked carefully beside,
To spot them from weeds (which my plot is prone),
As from their stems, fronds flaked droopily dried,
Would be repurposed as plastic headstones.
Here lies Dianthus Pink, Gran’s Favourite,
Louisiana Iris, Cherished One.
Here’s Rosa Auswhisper, The Poet’s Wife,
And of course, Dogtooth Daisy, Adios.
