Not Exactly Green Fingers

A Gardening Confession

I've been scrabbling in my garden,
though that's too grand a name;
it's more a 'normous patio,
or something of the same.

It's a little urban jungle
with paving slabs galore,
but shrubs and weeds now flourish
where they never did before.

I'm an intermittent gardener
and not one of the best.
I'm inclined to stand and daydream
each time I take a rest.

My mind supplies the pictures
of the plants I'd like to grow,
if space were not a problem;
I'd have flowers, row on row

and ornamental grasses
and lillies on a lake
and hoards of flowering fruit trees
of every kind and make.

Instead it's more a wilderness,
with, at least, no lawn to mow.
The plants, all tough and hardy,
let me ignore, 'em, though,

until... Today I notice
things are getting out of hand,
and I have to grab my secateurs,
go out and make a stand

against the creeping leafy things
before I'm overgrown.
But underneath I'm grateful
that they grew all on their own!