How Does Your Garden Glow
The love-lies-bleeding is breeding lies,the forget-me-nots cry: I've been forgotten!
the snow-on-the-mountain knows no snow.
the tulips have lost a lip and lisp
saucy salvos to the sun.
and the rose? It's just a rose,
or so someone opined, but did a pine
ever pine for a rose? Who knows.
A garden is a florabunda,
bundled in serendipities
serene in good weather,
to be pitied in bad.
Flowing like flowers flow,
from beds and buckets
to fill our souls with delight
when rainy days approach.
Poetry by William Hughes
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Written on 2025-07-20 at 00:49
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