The path’s wet with rain and trodden blossom. Crushed petals in hot hot pink looked funny In the downpour. A box of plums, deep red Were left on a stranger’s garden wall. Odd, I thought were they forgotten fruit or just A simple spring gift for the passer-by. They had not gone bad yet. Either […]
via A Walk on Good Friday-Lois Linkens — A Global Divergent Literary Collective