Three Poets Sit! Poem by Michael Gale

Three poets in a corner or a row...
Will ideas like trees do soon grow?
As like weeds sprout to shout out...
How ugly doth I be?

Weed eater in hand...
Like a silly Gypsy band.
Crystal ball doth seem too tall? ...
Small?

These seeds scattered here and there...
Growth regrown to one's disown.
Do not Ye sadly stare! ...
Never do to sadly dare.

Fingers inter twinned...
As Thy heart had emoted as dinned.
Both in tune...
Warm and hot in June.