They were fussy green sprouts
If the water drowned their roots
Their fingers would turn yellow
And their soil black
Gurgling in their plastic cells
If I took off their roof
Their lanky legs
Would hurry towards the light
Wringing their stalk
Smaller than I wanted
And the nightly frost permitted
If I never turned off their sun
Their leaves shriveled
Curling towards the stalk
Old grey scrolls
So I spend my time
Trying to find
The perfect medium
Slaving for fussy green sprouts
If the water drowned their roots
Their fingers would turn yellow
And their soil black
Gurgling in their plastic cells
If I took off their roof
Their lanky legs
Would hurry towards the light
Wringing their stalk
Smaller than I wanted
And the nightly frost permitted
If I never turned off their sun
Their leaves shriveled
Curling towards the stalk
Old grey scrolls
So I spend my time
Trying to find
The perfect medium
Slaving for fussy green sprouts
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