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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