Potted Willows

So how do you like my willows;

 Potted, stately, supple n' leafy?

You think I'm crazy, "magnoon".

 I ought grow only what's useful!

Plants blossoming flowers,

 Plants exuding fragrances,

 

Plants brimming with spices,

 Plants delectable with edibles.

"What do you grow!", You demand.

 "I am growing potential", I respond.

Still you pester and protest,

 As if potential is "ever present".

I disagree, it's not effortless.

 Ever toil to fertilize the soil?

Soil is ripe with such potential.

 It becomes every tree n' plant.

Yet the soil must be prepared,

 With concoctions so nutrient rich.

A college grad's only a potential,

 A mere future professional in waiting.

Yet what sweat n' tears over years,

 Shaped so many potential careers?

A banker amasses much money,

 Look how he brazenly claws his way.

For what? He can't eat or drink it.

 It's not fabric for home or clothes.

It's only an elusive potential,

 Yet, he pays dearly in hot pursuit.

Often it's like a slippery fish,

 Escaping while firmly in grip.

You see, how much sweat n' toil,

 Just to bring life's potential to a boil.

Don't take my willows for a weed,

 For I sow a truly a valuable breed.

---------------~ O ~---------------