Now I ask you to Pick Me
Look not at wilted garden were
roses and gardenias once grew-
that infurtle place were fresh
firm fruits once flowed and
unmarked cherries hung untouched.
Now take a look at your golden crop
ripen to pick and happy as a lark
singing and dancing all the sun long;
with all this time we can play.
A wish race through mind...
will you pick me?
Almedia S. Knight ASK
Comments about this poem (Now I ask you to Pick Me by Almedia Knight Oliver )
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