My Old Man Poem by Jacqui Thewless
My Old Man
Sometimes, a body cannot see.
There was a blight on the rose tree,
a rat among the strawberries
and I cared not, ladies,
I cared not, though water reeked
in glasses wherefrom posies peeped
on tables laid, so neat
I couldna’ see.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
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4/18/2024 8:57:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Lovely poem, my dear! ! !