I didn't want to comment in the beautiful reading room, but me likey...
a sighty to behold
sighty-poo,the pretty flower
growing in the glen
watch her by the hour
hope to be your friend
she takes the sun rays
and the watery of the rain
she likes the Sundays
and the recipe in her vein
a seed whisked in by a soft ,cool breeze
deposited her future amongst the trees
she grows lonely,waiting to be found
when she is ready,
take her from this ground
which raised her aroma and her colors
from her coma, she recovers
with you,
take her home
make it known
you love her
tell her you know
from where she came, never again.. to question her name
-The remarkable Alan Speegish-
from his collection of poyems entitled...Flakes of Snow