eons
and
ages
since
the touch
softness
and warmth
brushing
nuzzling
purpose
and
passion
missing
from life
sharing
and caring
holding
being held
anticipation
not
forthcoming
left
wondering
how it was
sparks
used to fly
downward
spiral
one is
the loneliest
number
need to learn
again
the lost
art of
the kiss
Sunday, November 8, 2009
when did it start
the love of the lawn
endless sea of green
soft and tender
underfoot
natures carpet
to frolic upon
roll and play
used as feed
for many an animal
forage for a meal
in rolled in the weed
many shapes and forms
prickly or not
flowered or clinging
ground cover for some
spoiling the greenery
for many
yank pull cut dig
no stopping
the green vermin
stop it now
bring in the pro
a gunfighter of sorts
the weed killer
rode into town
with promises aplenty
worry no more
action it will take
machine or by man
lay down the spray
pellets by some
time and money
watch them die
but wait
like a swamp creature
from the deep
a lawn nightmare returns
jason could admire
a nightmare back
a summer scream uttered
didn't kill us all
badder then before
overcome the weak sister
lawn
let nature take its
course
do what it will
hail the mighty weed
and remember the 60's
grass is for smoking
