No Better Place
The tulips have been battered by the wind
All their colours lay strewn upon the lawn
The end of day is split across the clouds
The drawing night plays echoes to the dawn
A symphony of splattered colours
amongst the sprawling wild winds of grey.
Streaked yellow, red and crimson petals
lost upon glistening green at end of day.
And I will tell you this
there is no better place to lie
than in this English garden
with the wind, wild across the sky
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Comments about this poem (No Better Place by Diana Rosser )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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