"Poetic Play"
A turtle who hibernates in its well.
Will soon come out of its shell.
The world is now in the fragrant, sweet, smell of spring.
It awakens to the ring of a church bell.
Chimes nine times.
In its wondrous day.
That dances to a romantic sway.
Like life is a poetry song in its own way.
All daylight long song.
Night of sight.
Inspiring imagination's creativity.
Through the morning mist I may see with cosmic clarity.
I am beyond the sea of tea.
In the key of B.
Nobody lets it be free.
With the exception of me.
The trumpet will blow out a horn's tune at the three of clocks' noon.
It is blown on the full moon.
By Jonathan Billet
No comments:
Post a Comment