And don't put on a show.
In country gardens
The air is fresh and clean;
No smoke and smog to slash at,
It paints a clear, pure scene.
In country gardens
Blood red poppies grow
With crimson roses and tulips,
Bowing to say hello.
In country gardens
The cycle just repeats;
Life renewed, replenished
From the compost heap.
Under a country garden
Lies a severed life
Giving back to the country garden
Pierced by a pruning knife.
Your feedback helps Delilah understand what's working
Just an average 17-yr-old from Northern Ireland. Kik: Delilah_95
Soapy froth of the sea Peaceful you lay and be. But your waters are dark with thick mud. Bubbles made, but they're not suds. Why is it your waters are grim. They cause you to drown rather than swim.
Golden hued leaves fall graciously to the ground. All the little squirrels stop and turn transfixed to the sound. Pollen lost from the legs of bees coat the glistening floor.
.Roots. Grow. Flourish. Nourished. New. Midlife. Scraped bark. Peeling. Withering. Shrivelling. Dying. Dead. Fallen..
You start as a green stud. But grow, change is on it's way. You're outgoing with a bud, No, you won't be a bouquet. Purple majesty Delightful aroma Soft, silky petals, Yet you're in a coma.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.