The blossom has fallen on to the old garden wall.
A wall that is crumbling and looks as if it will fall.
The wind blows the apple tree and down come
her petals saying hello to a bed of nettles.
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The flow and colour of your words take us to a beautiful place, Love Duncan
Lovely, lovely, lovely! A sweet poem, an excellent expression of falling blossom, exactly how it is. Love Ernestine XXX
Praise for your beautiful, nostalgic poem, Perhaps, God counts the falling blossoms as He counts the sparrows. He created them and they are precious in His sight, Love always, Sandra