Mayapples green in forest’s shade,
Victim of a boy’s imagination.
Stick sword in hand, leafy enemy he slays,
Victory the boy’s destination.
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great poem Gary, loved the content which to me had deep meaning. cheers Sylvie
This poem makes me feel very nostalgic. When he was a little boy, my brother Jeffrey used to slay ironweed in just the same way. He thought of them as Philistine warriors with purple plumes. Thank you for warming my memory with this charming poem. Kind regards, Sandra