3 August 2012
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.
2) Country • Opuss № I