amid the scrunch and phut
and patter and putt
and the squeak of my right boot
complaining at it's over use
I limp through the rain
and think of all the reasons
I love poetry
but they are the scrunch and phut
and patter and putt
of limping through the rain
in an anorak hood
with my left boot
laughing at the rights over use
The Blue Book
No comments:
Post a Comment