Jeff Connelly Poet I do not know?

Impromptu

the lettuce
is wilting
let us pray
for salad days

but
so said by Shaw
about gardens
and god

he's in the ground
but digging a bed
isn't the same
as a grave

so she was sown
from seed to sprout
now an heirloom
with an older tune

but still blue bells
toll in a breeze
they toll not for you
not due at least

another season to greet
spring up with the sun
drink down the rain
summer's slumbers

never one to complain
never one to distain
caffeine laughing
Zia Romaine

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Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart February 10, 2019 at 8:06 AM Crisp and chewy poetry, enjoyed! :) xomo Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart February 10, 2019 at 8:42 AM A poem is not a failure, once it leaves you it has a life of its own, every poem lives differently in every reader's mind. You have no control over how it is read, only if it is read. Jeff Connelly February 10, 2019 at 8:33 AM Thank you Maureen. I was hoping to convey a state of dismay with a dash of grief; ending in hope for the health of my Aunt Romaine. I guess unless you know her this poem is a failure.