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David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Who


Who will weed my garden
After I am gone?
Who will write my poetry
And sing my sad, sad songs:

The bulbs that I have planted,
The blazing purples and the reds
Will be crowded out by green weeds
Strangled in their beds;

Gone will be the glory
The tale of all that I have done;
Oh who will feed my wife,
Be a father to my sons?

Submitted: Friday, June 07, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 01, 2013

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