Poem 12: Thistledown

© Bruce Goodman 1 August 2015

12poemthistle

Thistledown, gentle pest,
floating, elusive.
Its flight is proof enough of air!

Master of deception,
how delicately it disguises
its prickly mother.

Tiptoed around in too much rain
and planted.
Let’s hope the bloody thing drowns.

14 thoughts on “Poem 12: Thistledown

This is the chattanooga choo chew the fat chat:

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