Eight pots under my front window, Not selected but a random collection, Presents in tubs ,seed floated flowering, Remains of painstaking gardening, And days of inspiration and sun; And still in one a yellow wallflower, Finding a home, colourful and bright, Not waiting to dance but abundant self, Bearing out the winter storms, To give its beauty in return for chance, Underneath my window sill.
Love Mary xxxx
Inspiration the pots under my widow and something unsaid.