nectar (Remove filter)
The Little folk
At the end of the garden,by the big old oak
Hidden away from inquisitve eyes,
Is a dwelling place for the little folk
usually mistaken for butterflies!
The flowers grow higher, the grass much more sweet,
a soft green carpet under your feet.
It's easy to miss them, not clearly in sight,
the time they enjoy most, is quite late at night!
You see, they are cautious, and da...
Friday 8th April 2016 1:40 pm
Recent Comments
Bethany Sallis on Against the background of a Winter Sky
53 seconds ago
John Coopey on THE NOB NURSE 2
6 minutes ago
David RL Moore on Against the background of a Winter Sky
32 minutes ago
Rasa Kabaila on The Magic in Mundane
4 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Against the background of a Winter Sky
9 hours ago
John Coopey on The Gift of Words
9 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Gift of Words
10 hours ago
Auracle on Live life to the full and forget your age
10 hours ago
Auracle on Amnesia
10 hours ago
Lee Campbell on In praise of Milton Keynes: Graham Sherwood wins poetry competition in home city
10 hours ago