Plants - luckless

It happened I was thinking of plants today,
Though I have a withering thumb [green ones ran out before me. :(].
I still water, I keep digging in hopes that my efforts will yet yield something.
For every rose has its thorns, the needles - their thread.
I have a cursed touch, plants around me fall dead.
Even with a grass trimmer I am green's bane.
My path leaves behind a dirty brown train.
This drought hasn't amended my annihilating ways.
I hope for rainfall, instead of humidity and sun's intense gaze.
I'll take a storm over the weight of warm,
The thunder and lightnings reign; The wind in the trees
And the wet airborne seas, that flood earthwards into bountiful gain.
So the vegetation below, the plants drink and grow.
These yellowed Rose of Sharons to rise.
(I bear the fault of those flower's untimely demise).
I had been told to uproot, these misnamed bushes' sapling shoots,
Then left them in a bucket in my car.
By the time I arrived home, the spouts had sagged low.
Intervention through inundation was due!
That operation was doomed, they had sent out last blooms.
Their stalks have shriveled and curled.
Those Sharon's roses have fallen, on hard times they are crawling -
For the chances of their survival are slim.
But I'll do what I can, though no garden fan.
I sure hope that these plants can swim.
(Gushing rubber hose...)