From the step
That strong pink rose
paints my mother’s face,
her smile as she saw it,
and the breeze recalls
her sigh at its glory.
But I’m still not a gardener,
I tidy the steps,
cut back a few brambles,
think, now and then,
about the state of the grass.
I watch wildflowers run,
positively encourage
mobs of foxes and cubs.
I hear dandelions roar
and bluebells ring.
RF 2024
I’ve not written much this year, been gainfully employed for a change, but here’s a little something I’ve been fiddling about with for a month or two. I read it to the folks at Newtyle Music Session last week and people seemed to like it so let’s spread it a little wider.
Pics are from mid June.
6 comments:
I specially like the last two lines. I can hear those dandelions roaring from here.
That sounds like my ideal garden (yard). If I had my way I too would just think about the state of the grass & leave it alone.
Thank you 😁
Luckily most places we've lived have already got at least some resident plants (like these roses). And then there's Mark -
if anyone's a gardener here it's him 😄
Like, very much. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for reading 😊
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