She called it a gapanthus
It’s a mystery my dear
I won it in a raffle
Not the crystal chandelier
But a pot with no instructions
Lacking clarity I fear
Just hinting with its leafage
That a flower might appear
So I’ll watch its progress daily
For at least about a year
Or until it dies or I do
I have simply no idea
Are its flowers firm or floppy
Are they fat or like a spear
Are they fragrant are they lasting
Would they fit behind the ear
Like a dainty little daisy
Or a big ballooning sphere
An enormous bursting firework
Quick to bloom and disappear
Now the waiting’s quite exciting
So I do not want to hear
From the friends who know it backwards
All well-meaning and sincere
No AI or gardeners’ programme
Is allowed to interfere
But when petals open I’ll invite
An expert panel here
And meanwhile I shall sprinkle it
With crisps and bottled beer
And hope a panthus doesn’t need
Instructions that are clear