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I read of wild flowers
Becoming scarce, endangered, lost
Only to be found in verges

I thought this would be in the country
Where the fields are green and gold

But I found them next to the kerbside
Plains of asphalt and concrete

In Grey fields where poppies blow

Between the roads, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly

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I Read of Wild Flowers

3 thoughts on “I Read of Wild Flowers

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