Under the vines marched the gnomestheir donsy formed no aisles or rowsthey picked at a green grapethen frowned at the landscapethey were really expecting a plum rose I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt #170. Dennis provided the prompt this week, called “A Donsy of Gnomes”. The details are as follows: YourContinue reading "The Befuddled Donsy"
