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Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ❤️‎Տթɾìղƙℓєs, if Due❤️Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
ཐི༏ཋྀ G is for the Gorse Fairy ;༊
“When Gorse is out of blossom,”
(Its prickles bare of gold)
“Then kissing’s out of fashion,”
Said country-folk of old.
Now Gorse is in its glory
In May when skies are blue,
But when its time is over,
Whatever shall we do?
❤️
O dreary would the world be,
With everyone grown cold—
Forlorn as prickly bushes
Without their fairy gold!
But this will never happen:
At every time of year
You’ll find one bit of blossom—
A kiss from someone dear!
By: C. M. Barker
       /\_/\ 
     ≽• . •≼ ❤️;༊
  ཐི༏ཋྀ  /❤️\ (  ❤️Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
‎❤️(( | | ))❤️Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ❤️Ʈђaηƙ ყღʊ❤️Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

ℋℯℓℓσ
Taking a look at your beautiful garden💦
Ʈђaηƙ you ƒor √ιsιʈing

★
  ★.(ྀ
  .ི৲)★   
  .(☆´)                   
  .ི৲(★     
  С██    Տթɾìղƙℓєʂ

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