I walk among my garden blooms And feel west winds upon my face, For in this heated window space Two red geraniums flaunt their plumes. A little kitchen plant presumes To vie with jasmine's rural grace; I walk among my garden blooms And feel west winds upon my face. All flowers blossom in my rooms Because against my window place Geramiums etch their scarlet trace; Between the kettle, pans and brooms, I walk among my garden blooms. |