Comments section

We can pick peonies until the cows come home.

nothing can grow unless you first let it go,
but there’s some have to hold on
I
think they’ve got gold on
their minds.

The forty-niners,
now
they were miners
and some were minors who
looked into mirrors
and saw themselves growing old.

The flowers look nice, dear.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.