General Poetry posted July 20, 2021


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a work poem

high life

by judester

Those frustrated females
without a man in sight,
so upwardly mobile
beneath the blinding lights.

Harvest time, those pretty blooms
tumble round and round,
lovely little nuggets
hi stepping into town.

Then again the cycle
as mothers spare their gift.
Pistils lit in crystals,
intoxicating whiffs





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Thanks to avmurray for the artwork.
I now work at a pot farm in Quebec, very interesting to learn all the different stages.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by avmurray at FanArtReview.com

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