deserves praise, yet should come as natural.
there may be to many additives these day,
not enough honesty grown. she said i should
have something new in the greenhouse.
i have, i said, and thought of you, who
planted the seeds
wake late on wednesday,
remember your fathers’ mirror.
know that when all is mud and sundries,
it can be washed clean, clean as babies are.
that brings us back to chairs, that hold fear,
secrets, yet we are lucky in that
we have paid work, and he is not in
these are old words.