Ode to the Weed
Oh, purple flower gracing my front yard,
You look as pretty as a greeting card.
I love your colors of purple and green,
I love your smell, so fresh and clean.
“It's a weed,” my husband said.
“It's NOT a pretty flower, it deserves to be dead.”
Oh, purple flower, this news made me cry
I'm from Texas, where the hot sun makes all plants die.
But my husband is a wise man,
He always has the best plan,
So I'll have to let you go and hope for the best
The lawn mower will take care of the rest.
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