'Listening.'
By blackheart
Laid beneath a waking moon, With coffee cup and silver spoon. Watching flies, and bright white eyes, Dancing in the shadows loom. Feeling the Earth move, With imagination and a long sore tooth. Grasping anglers rods, and, bit’s and bobs, Under this shining starlit roof. Looking quickly for the sun, As night time dies, the moons job done. Eating grass, and, similar tasks, Pushing turf... ant’s and bugs all run. Laid beneath the shining sun, With empty cup and dirty spoon. Watching life and all rush by… Dying in the summers gloom. Why do you listen to me? Written January 18th, 2002 © on Jan 18 2002 07:44 AM PST, harry luck 0 • 10
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"Laid beneath a waking moon,..."