Flung Poem by Steve Howard
Flung
Spring has sprung, the pollen flung,
that's how natures garden grows.
But I cannot see, for the life of me,
why nature would suppose,
that as she flings her flung about,
I'd need a garden up my nose.
Monday, September 28, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: humour
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4/30/2024 3:54:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
