All The World's A Stage

Garden Lament

Oh, my garden,
you are full of weeds,
on my list of priorities,
you are number 33.

Your roses have aphids,
raspberry shoots abound,
the new iris will be lucky,
not to be mowed down.

Oh, my garden,
in the eye of my dreams,
blooming with fall flowers,
not these weedy reams.

Posted by Liz at September 18, 2004 10:17 AM