Botanica

[Pilgrim]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall.