During that golden spring [1]
We had a place in the garden
where the fairest lilies grows,
and there was one crimson rose
and of the garden hose you were the warden
always bright and sunny and never sadden
and at times I held you close
tickled with a feather on your ear and nose
and you became either gladden or totally madden
at times shrieking, whimpering
could claw, bite or scream
while that feather was circling and stirring
and in return you would rub ice cream
in my face, in any place during that golden spring,
but now it so long ago, like a far off dream.
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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