Or Maybe... Poem by Jerry Buckley

I can't remember, just now, whether or not,
or what sort of tulips I'd planted, last fall.
It's inexcusable to me, that I'd forgotten,
but my muddled memory evades recall.

Did I follow up suite again, and bury
passles of pink pastels on promenade?
Or is the bed pregnant with Tulip Shirley,
her soothing, changing-colored fade?

Did I pick up a package of Parrots in Memphis,
impulse purchased along some shopping spree?
Then, mixed them in with the jonquels and lilacs;
up front, so the neighbors could see?

Did I mail order? Lady Janes? From Holland's?
To spiff the back corner that's so confused.
Did I go a' natural, transplanting the Darwins?
I'm told they can winterize and be re-used.

I anticipate a blunder; can only wait and wonder,
how these candy stripes just come from Beck's
can enhance the value of my buried treasure.
Will they cause a color riot, or peacfully co-exist?

... I suppose only time can tell.



'Voice of One' @ Jerry Buckley