give me a girl
a singing willow
weeping dreams
into her pillow,
stitching stars
for troubled times
for troubled times
and blue;
we sail with her in
pea-green boats
to Jumblies
far and few
give me a girl
a falling lark
who cringes
at her sordid arts;
a girl of clay
for pity’s sake,
God, for pity’s sake;
dolls pump hearts
that will not break
and switching smiles
of silky sass,
they feed on lies
like cake.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:24 AM UTC
give me a girl
a singing willow
weeping dreams
into her pillow,
stitching stars
for troubled times
for troubled times
and blue;
we sail with her in
pea-green boats
to Jumblies
far and few
give me a girl
a falling lark
who cringes
at her sordid arts;
a girl of clay
for pity’s sake,
God, for pity’s sake;
dolls pump hearts
that will not break
and switching smiles
of silky sass,
they feed on lies
like cake.
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