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Buds bursting, coloured pale Birds tending twigs to nests Lambs fall about and flail Farmers try to look their best Market time has come again The people weave and wind Stuffed stalls and scrbbling pen Church bells start to chime Children hold their parents' hands Puppies start to whine Instinct says to lope the land But only if tis thine Steaming pits of people coil Grey morning sunlight Puddles iridescent with oil Blasted seagulls fight. The rain will come, human fingers Will grasp at crisp packets Cigarrette but stench lingers Still the seagus make a racket. For love they sell pretty flowers For death condolence cards The merchant will use his powers Decorum lies in splintered shards. So feast and sneeze as seasons Change and placate your winter Hunger, swallow reasons Lest in your palm they splinter.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
poeticlotusmachine
A Spring Tale
Buds bursting, coloured pale Birds tending twigs to nests Lambs fall about and flail Farmers try to look their best Market time has come again The people weave and wind Stuffed stalls and scrbbling pen Church bells start to chime Children hold their parents' hands Puppies start to whine Instinct says to lope the land But only if tis thine Steaming pits of people coil Grey morning sunlight Puddles iridescent with oil Blasted seagulls fight. The rain will come, human fingers Will grasp at crisp packets Cigarrette but stench lingers Still the seagus make a racket. For love they sell pretty flowers For death condolence cards The merchant will use his powers Decorum lies in splintered shards. So feast and sneeze as seasons Change and placate your winter Hunger, swallow reasons Lest in your palm they splinter.
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