Ponder

The tufts of grass grew tall along the wall,
then through the fence, continued on their way,
into a meadow.
There, wild flowers grew,
in vivid colours of every hue,
and were strewn down the hill in disarray,
sparkling bright in the early newborn day,
leaving the mind to ponder on it all.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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