Take Heed of the Garden

He's rolling along the blacktop, Rolling past Flora's crop, Like a disinterested wind, A Zephyr without a clue... He doesn't stop to take notice, It's just one foot before the next, Placing his worn out size twelve Atop a sweet daisy... His touch is rough, and, Better fit the for handling the Painstaking labors of life Than cultivating flowers in the garden, Some men take pleasure in plucking lilies! They are the farm hands who reap your fields! Other men specialize in sowing seeds, They are those who recognize the flowers' needs... He's not so handsome as Narcissus, But knows well, how to piss a goddess off! He laid to waste and wilt many flowers And soon gained the title of 'invasive weed'! He has no place in the garden, No knowledge of the flowers' anatomy, His touch is too rough to the pedal He can't keep his hand off the pistil Pluck the weed That cannot heed The need of a flowering seed Out of my garden she decreed