My cultivated garden grows, seeds in rows,
Gently tendered, watered, sun enough and earth—
Daisy, hollyhock, delphinium, and
Columbine—will you be mine?
Blessed flowers, blessed birth.

I’ve grown discouraged, bummed out, glum.
Flowers should enchant, delight, so—
Tell me the flaw― my failed green thumb?
Germination yes, but oh, oh no!

From someone so upset, chagrin—
Let me tell you what woe is—
All my perfect plantings, those blessed births—
Everything’s coming up roses!

Doug Allen has written poetry since high school and been published many times over the years. He writes mostly traditional verse, most often inspired by nature and sometimes writes wry or ironic verse inspired by our follies and frustrations. This poem was published previously in England by Green Ink Poetry.