DEATH AT MY DOORSTEP

watermelon-seedling

Watermelon. Apple. Orange,
Carefully tended from seeds into lings –
Speeding as if from Blorenge,
She caused their atrocious killings.

Sorry. All she said,
Strike one in this life lesson –
Regrettably, thence they remained,
Wished I owned a Smith & Wesson.

Potted seedlings I adored,
Showed off with such pride –
Pot broken. Soil gorged.
Shouldn’t have left them outside.

What to do! What to do!
Start afresh, we must –
Weep. Cry. Wail. Shoo.
‘tis all in the past.

Ugly and sordid that scene,
Plants crushed into pulp –
Wait for her to clean,
My dear, beautiful, plants how I gulp!

Flora and fauna both the same,
Green fingers and iron sheers –
Mourn the death and the shame,
Oh crime most atrocious!

Gone! Mashed! Irredeemable
Nothing there, I declare –
With angst so incurable,
I retreat to my boudoir – lair.

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