What cannot be,
cannot be.
He has his garden to tend,
his beds to weed.
his roses
his wildflowers
his elephant ears
his clematis vine
his daisies
his black-eyed Susans
his cosmos
the columbine
his wife's wisteria
his giant hibiscus
his honeysuckle
his burning bush
his coleus
his Boston ferns
all those spider plants
all those lilies
and then it's winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem