I love the shade of softest green
That grass can sometimes be;
A perfect carpet that I’ve seen
Beneath a shady tree.And oh, how much I long for
Such beauty from my lawn, for
Some reason I have been denied
The chance to gaze and fill with pride
At my own lush scenery
And walk upon such greenery.
Instead, I’m forced to cultivate
A field of weeds, a parking lot
For every type of foliate
To cover every bare spot
Created by a dog or cat
That stops to poop or pee upon
And turn to yellow all that
I’d hoped there could be green on.
My dreams of lush and soft perfection
I’ve placed upon the shelf
And pulled from there my sad collection
Of weeds, and let the lawn itself
Grow what it will, alack, alas!
Instead I dream of things I’ve grown
Like spiky leaves of crabby grass
And other weeds the wind has sown.