grub worms, grave gravity,
failed romances, the fate of the Great Auk,
a death too young, a silent sacred dance
of butterflies
all flow behind my eyes
song lyrics whose melodies
never quite reach my ears, so
I plop verses on a page
an elder adolescent sage
writing in riddle, sometimes rhyme, committing
the crime of filching grist born of life's abundant mill,
and bastardizing it, carelessly, at will
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC
grub worms, grave gravity,
failed romances, the fate of the Great Auk,
a death too young, a silent sacred dance
of butterflies
all flow behind my eyes
song lyrics whose melodies
never quite reach my ears, so
I plop verses on a page
an elder adolescent sage
writing in riddle, sometimes rhyme, committing
the crime of filching grist born of life's abundant mill,
and bastardizing it, carelessly, at will
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