I put light bulbs into roses
And I tried to make them grow,
But no further than my workbench
Would they ever even go.
I connected them with wires, clips –
I’ve tried it all:
Drew out diagrams on yellowed paper,
Labelled in my chicken scrawl.
Once the electrician came to look.
“What have you been doing girl?”
It was then that at my workbench
A bag of fertilizer did he hurl.
Gone then were the wires, clips;
Gone the ashes on the floor.
All that’s left were wilted roses
Piled up right by the door.