Friday, May 13, 2016

A Picture-Poem



It splays on walls

On meadow-halls


On ramparts, lofty-blue


It spills to hills


And silvered rills


To wooded avenue


It lies against
 
 

The forlorn fence


It steals the dreamer’s heart


With every hue


We ever knew


In Mother Nature’s art



© Janet Martin

...so, what kind of flowers do you think Janet should plant in here when she is done digging?' I asked the little guy I babysit.
'How 'bout dandelions!' he suggested
 


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