Wednesday, April 7, 2010

A Whimsical Poem

A small tiny gnome, I am

I run here and there, I do

Guessing at the numbers of peach blossoms

I wonder at the content of their glittering stones

Out of the tulip buds come by blood-related gnomes

The filling of pollen falls over them, it does

Then we all start to dance as the greenness and all their colors

open so bright, they do.


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