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written by: Aaron Marchant


Who was the man that first decreed
one plant a flower, one a weed?

Who witnessed dandelion field
and thought it to the scythe should yield?
And seeing dancing celandine
longed for the hour of its decline?

Who viewed the buttercup profusion
and felt regret at the intrusion?
Or in the border, spied the blot
of baby-blue forget me not?

Who strolled a path where daisies smiled
and of their company reviled?
And breathed the honeysuckle scent
only its fragrance to lament?

Who looked on golden woodland spurge
and found its countenance a scourge?
Or sorrowful, expressed disdain
where meadowsweet adorned the lane?

What kind of man, who first decreed
one plant a flower, one a weed?

Aaron Marchant

Aaron Marchant

2018 AUTHOR OF THE YEAR at Spillwords.com
Aaron Marchant lives in the rolling Chiltern Hills in UK, where he enjoys walking among the bluebell woods and occasionally finding poetic inspiration whilst enjoying a beer in the garden of a country pub.
Aaron Marchant

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