‘I owe you for what happened

Yellow blossoming showy fruit
Sweet nectar draws you
They are not welcome
No not on my lawn

Their vine’s poison
the soil
Takes its arms and wraps
the coil
Green neglected grass
Choking for air among the sea

The sea of girls
Who giggle; who twirl
The flower’s stems they pick
Touching and feeling giving
Tired fingers a lick

Nasty, bitter taste
They drop it with haste
It is not dead,
It is food for the bees.

To pollinate
Make more trees
Not too late
The bees they go

Off somewhere far
On the seeds of graying
stars.