The writing's on the wall. Rhubarb.
One more than I’ll promise to go away.
The rhubarb I tried to grow.
Turned out to be albino.
Perhaps in my speed.
I bought the wrong seed.
But it ain’t nececellery so.
One more than I’ll promise to go away.
The rhubarb I tried to grow.
Turned out to be albino.
Perhaps in my speed.
I bought the wrong seed.
But it ain’t nececellery so.
Comments
Brian it gets worse. I am going to try to come up with swome of my own, but dont hold your breath
A man with the surname of Towers
Does wonderful things with his flowers,
In a voice sweet and low,
He tells them to grow
And waters them in-between showers.
Isn’t nice to know Dave that you and I are keeping the quality of poetry so high?
– Brian Towers