The One Who Sends Flowers

Without end it seems this unruly draught,

This fabulous lack of frippery.

Just when its persistence proves in doubt

My yellow brick road becomes slippery.

I have no answers to the big questions,

The ones that burden your mind past midnight.

I lack helpful hints, worthy suggestions

Or the power to set everything right.

What a boon it would be, then, for the frills -

Not one occassion would go unnoted.

Soothing sympathies, quaint moments of thrills -

Countless chances to prove I'm devoted.

Indeed, in those great and desperate hours

I should be the one who sends you flowers.

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a.griffiths57's picture

    Just a lovely poem, well

 

 

Just a lovely poem, well written, liked the rhyming and content. Lovely.


 

 

http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57