I want to write a poem about ripe, old apple trees.
And seated old poets in armchairs with arthritic knees,
Carving words out into windblown dandelion seeds
Circling trunks and boughs—where a snake precedes
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I want to write a poem about ripe-old apple-trees And poets in their armchairs with arthritic knees, But sadly I haven't the time to-do-so child, I'm becoming all-too-old and now sleep beguiled......much impressive concluding llines. Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharinng,