fleabane, a poem
fleabane, a poem
The factory where once I lurked
now lays fallow, completely shirked;
all across the empty lots
sprout floating little dots;
white filaments of hair
that even a flea can’t bear;
discs of yellow so bright
they leave the mind alight.
It may well be
that a flea’s bane is a bee’s gain
but as for me, all it brings is pain.
by matt at shadow of iris
For Reference:
Common Fleabane [Read more...]
