What is it with Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple and quaint English villages, alas my escape into perfection…..
St Mary Mead
I always had a problem telling the Foxgloves from the Hollyhocks,
the Lupins from the Lillies and the black from the white,
but from beyond the hedge (or was it the curtain), she always knew,
she always knows……..
Nick Hawkins 5/12/15, all poetry rights reserved