indisposed gardener

Indisposed Gardener


Today I want to write a poem it’s spring you see,
and green weed with blue flowers along the house.
I’m reluctant to remove them they have been
around longer than me and will continue long after
I’ve gone; when I die my little gesture of kindness
towards fingerless dog and despised weed will not
be forgotten, if asked what I have done in my life to
look back upon, I will mention this, if the man is not
impressed I will tell him it the unseen kindness that
counts, the big bravado things only bring satisfaction
to the beaming do-gooders who, for all we know,
may go home and be malicious to his wife if dinner
isn’t ready on time and shame her by peeing out of
the window when drunk. The blue flowers only last
a week then they’ll wilt and my backache… gone.