No animals were harmed in the making of this poem
Daffodil Lament
Solace for Wordsworth, a sea of yellow
Joyous daffodils, fluttering with glee
Yeats’ solitude, so serene and mellow
The purple glow of tranquil Innisfree
But my Eden, once green is gone, Garden
Ripped asunder like a scene from the Somme
I feel my blood boil, my cold heart harden
Bare clay, craters, holes where plant life’s long gone
What agony this, emotional ruction
Botanically bereft I may now be, but
I’ll fix that weapon of grass destruction
That vixen villain, my marauding mutt
I dream of an oasis, a feature
Where trees and flowers all colours abound
Roots fed by the rotting interred creature
Blooms safe from the jaws of my avenged hound
Look I spy her now, the vulpine vulture
Eating the entrails of her latest kill
The last death throes of my horticulture
As she beheads another daffodil
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