PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

At behest of the man who's drowned in the moat;

he thought well of leaves that could keep him afloat.

So gardeners worked to supplant and suffice

in pale, sullen light that was straining their eyes,

and were able to clot the freshwater vein

with acrid greens that splayed like a lion's mane.

The caretaker's jest came sudden and flowing:

these foreign shrubs had a fierce way of growing,

and control was waning and not to be had

by the fearfullest man who couldn't be glad.

So brought the trimmers and the matches and lo,

down came the patchwork garden we'd come to know.