30 October 2011

Sunday Morning Poetry

{Practicing 4 feet, 3 feet}

The cow roams desperate on hills
To find the grass that’s green

He rubs his head to stroke the hair
But never finds it there

Upon her lap he lays his head
Basking in forever

The thought may come when you do stroke
a shiny hairless head

The bird doth strike his head upon
my closed window glass pane

Fret not because he flew away
once again this morning

I do proclaim he will return
When light refracts again

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