Is low light in a limited space
And a potash tea
But between you and me
I feel you could use some phosphorus
As well to fire your blooms
Which for three years I haven’t seen
Except for two aborted efforts
On stunted stems
Dead infant twins
Packed in a suitcase
Left on the side of the road
But this spring I’m damned
To help you bloom
In heaven they’re making room
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