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The Shrubs

One day I shall see them
Sitting round the table, the shrubs,
Like our children used to do,
So lovingly brought up,
Nurtured over many years,
In a jolly mood in May.
 
When I have left the door open
To the garden, and I have been
Painting in my upstairs room,
On a warm pretty day,
After several hours,
I shall come down the stairs
 
And find these lovely flowers,
All so fragrant,
At one with the house
And me, their parent,
Sitting at the table,
Evolved into a new kind of love,
 
Dressed in gorgeous colours
Awaiting me and my approval,
As if to say, ‘This is our place, too,
You know,’ basking in heavenly scent,
Expecting to be chastised, perhaps,
But no, for I would be content,
 
An artist seduced by pink
And white, golden yellow and blue,
And orange-red and purple,
Blood-red exotic, beautiful,
And pale cream, a red cascade,
Pearl, mauve and violet hue.
 
May 2013
Copyright by D.J.Brennan, Derbyshire.

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