My good friend John
The gardener one
He boasts of his wisteria.
He calls me once,
Then twice, then thrice
He’s this close to hysteria.
~~
“It’s blooming soon!
Come see, come see
The buds are getting fatter!”
John keeps this up
All summer long
A never-ending natter.
~~
The problem is
John’s vine does bloom
And mine again is ‘fallow’
(It’s come to this
I find new words
For grief that I must swallow.)
~~
John’s vine does bloom
John’s vine does bloom
Three times in every season
“Come see, come see,”
John says to me
Happy beyond all reason.
~~
So off I go
Convinced he’s wrong
For now it is hot weather.
But No! John’s right
The vine doth bloom
This was no idle blather.
~~
~~
Just now I get
Another note
From you-know-who, a-boasting
And that is why
I write this verse
That John, he needs a roasting.
~~
A clever thought
Has seized my brain
And now I start devising
A stealthy plot
To carry out
A bit of ‘gardenizing’
~~
Of digging up
My barren vine
And off we’ll go together
In dead of night
Across the town
No matter what the weather.
~~
And plant it where
John’s vine once stood
And leave it in its glory
While John’s vine
Sprawls across my hood
About to change the story.
~~
Now we shall see
Who boasts each spring
And every single summer
For John is now
Proud owner of
The world’s non-blooming bummer.
The End.
Top 2 photos by John Van Burek of his bloomin’ wisteria. Ughhhh…..
Cynthia Reyes 