by ILWL on Fri Apr 11, 2008 3:37 pm
Much flattered Who? - with the thought that I have a yard!
Actually I have a garden!
Nose pressed hard on frosted glass
Gazing as the swollen mass
On concrete fields where grows no grass
He stumbles blindly on
Iron trees smother the air
Withering they stand and stare
Through eyes that neither know nor care
Where the grass is gone
