Saturday, July 17, 2021

poem

 Drooping

When the sunflower droops

Its head in the rain

I think it looks so forlorn.

But the flower has its 

Own ideas, noticing me

Over its sodden shoulder

With a heavy sigh,

Thinking, don’t foist

All your troubles on me

Young man; if you’re sad

You ought to have your own cry.


7/17/21


No comments: