It's that time of year when seeds call out
'Plant me, I'll grow', you hear them shout.
So in good faith you toil away,
Happy in your work all day.
But come September, what's to show,
Holes in leaves; slim trails in every row.
Oh well, the wildlife will live for another year at least!
(A disheartened gardener. - Thank you for sharing that, I think many of us with fumbling/failing green-fingers can understand. Also, thank you, whoever you are, for the poem via my pigeon hole... I remember my old English teacher (who was a bit like Major from Fawlty Towers) would say "I keep pigeons in my pigeon hole"... I can say I get poems in mine! Thank you!)
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