I cannot recall its name    
tiny blooms almost all the year
spreading   on the path.  
I rarely use this door,  
enter by the back,  
leaving the car in the garage  
and bolt the garden gate.  
Fading paint hangs in blisters  
sort of green at one time,  
one time long a go, a half full tin  
reminds me of the green as once it was.  
brush thrown on the floor, caked hard;  
but no I'll not paint the gate . . .
not this year.  
More important, the name of this tiny flower  
It will come to me one day, I can wait.  
I first met this gem on the lab steps  
I was in my twenties, a student,  
I am older now yet remain a student.  
the jig saw incomplete  
but there's time to find the name  
'til then and when and sometime  
 I shall  watch and look and listen.  
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published | Edited 31st May 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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