He deserts me each and every day
his love thrown on another
Fingertips on fragile shafts
he carefully discovers
Goes into that hothouse
salty beads upon his brow
Carefully acknowledging
what steps he should take now
Got a line of maidens waiting
for that crucial drink or touch
Yield to him their flowery parts
in gratitude nonesuch
A martyr to his wanton needs
in strokes and feeds and lust
Measurements are noted -
some bushes trimmed and trussed
All I want is some attention -
must I have to nag or plead?
Does he care of my existence
while he's off to plant his seed
Soon colours bloom and captivate,
fruits and veggies grow
Flowers of the exotic
dance in wonderful tableau
Blossomed scents chase after you
edged around the garden
Fruits just ripe for picking
as some veggies beg their pardon
Yes, his cultivation orgies
in spite of all my woes
Pay off in taste and quality -
from pea to pear to rose.
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