Roses, tulips, lilies,
My heart has bloomed like these.
Splinters, thistles, thorns,
Pierced my heart come morn.
Left, right, above,
Is this the start of true love?
Potatoes, carrots, corn,
Why am I so torn?
Rain, hail, snow,
Will I ever know?
Up, down, under,
Will I get used to this thunder?
Copyright © Lillian Twolsky | Year Posted 2020
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