And whistled on torn-leaf flute:
Twee dee do dee
Sun shine on me
Twee dee dee dum
Warm and give freedom.
He stowed the green instrument
After giving a final captivated glimpse
On its emerald and bright blooming
Highlights from gravitating sunburst
In his weaved torn-leaf side-bag.
A short slide on trusted vine
brought him to brown-leaf bed.
One last glimpse over pot's rim
At the dusty censoring glass pane
And then he laid down his head.
No comments:
Post a Comment