And so, a few yearnful years ago,
we planted a thistle, so blue.
A Thistle for me to remember,
recall and reminisce o’er the home I once knew.
This perfect choice plant (for a man of my birth?)
was a bookmark of sorts in the greens all around.
But it never was seen for the following years.
(We feared rigorous weeding, left it purged from the ground.)
But my absence last year, left one border untouched.
Save a last minute clearing, of autumnal drape.
This year, it’s come back, like an Ice-crystal magnet,
to bring back long gone memories, we can never escape.
Note: Can be seen at
www.flickr.com/photos/22045518@N08/2687913507/
Am I allowed to like the bee best... please... rest is too sad blueezz for me..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Checked your Wee Bee Danny and I can proudly say these same thistles occupy my land....smiling at you, Tai, quite prickly but only when in full blooming anger! lol Loving your fantastic photo