For too many to mention
Heavenly blossoms borne on floating stems,
Heady, delightful bouquets like incense.
Empty promises, no garlanded gems,
Unperfumed evenings, fragrance, is not scent.
Tended with such care, those slim tender limbs,
Hold lime leaves in May, where great hope is laid.
Year after year, expectation grows dim,
As kindness given, goes often unpaid.
Majestic, pendulous blooms we await,
With hope against hope in you we believe.
Like a beggar’s bowl, yours an empty plate,
Leaving us feasting on nothing but leaves.
What is all this garden hysteria,
Loveless life, a barren Wisteria.
Please do leave me your thoughts and comments, in praise or constructive criticism, I appreciate them all and will reply.