tenderfoot dancer
Please read the amazing poetry of a talented writer.
well
he took off his shirt
then he plucked a hairy weed
out of the lettuce bed
dropped his blue-jeans
stepped out of the leggings
by the broccoli
cast his vest away to one side
leaned down
to check out the peas
assess the way the beans had grown
his short shorts were no good
so they flew
right across
two potato hills
but he retained his old hat
because the sun was out
and he danced some kind of
rain-come-hither every time
he put his foot down
on a stick
or a stone
he wondered
was it really naked gardening
the way they described it in his book
if he kept
his wide-brim on
to keep the sun away
he didn’t know
he was
tenderfoot planting
tenderfoot dancing
naked gardening
© Frank Prem, 2016
John thank you. It’s both flattering and kind of you to reblog this.
Cheers,
Frank
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I did like this poem. Made my day and you are welcome.
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