Don't pick the flowers

when you are
three foot four
odour of geraniums
is hard to endure
yet excuisite perfume
of roses in bloom
has irresistible allure..
don't pick the flowers.
my grandad is Tom Pepper
He lied and ran to fight the hun
lived to keep his tale undone
Don't pick the flowers he said..
or I'll shoot you with my gun.
by the crystal tile fire he sat.
with his pipe and flat cap..
and I  stood staring at old age,
and it stared back in steely rage..
He kissed those stones in France
and never breathed a word..
shell shock caused  a silence
from hell he has endured..
Happy Christmas grandad
he can't hear you said nan..
Happy Christmas Mr Grinch..
I heard that, I'll fetch my gun!
we don't need to be Lord Byron,
Yates or Wilfred Owen..
there's beauty, tragedy passion.
love life in every atom of our being
Truth be known. 

.