VI.
May 24, morning
We tried to keep ourselves
free of hazelnuts, yet somehow . . .
he never sat in milk anyway.
No glasses on the shelves
but was it so very highbrow
what our son meant to say?
She was surrounded by them,
those kids who never seemed to cry
unless the ball went out of bounds.
Then she proffered a rare gem
whose blue swallowed the entire sky.
They stood transfixed, making strange sounds,
hoping to find the only door
to the other side left open
with enough time to write a note
so others lost on the moor
trying to cross that slow fen
could avoid the treacherous moat.
But the air here is so dank
our comforts all come from above
relayed by the man on TV.
He's the one we have to thank
for the sights we so truly love
and the songs that set us free.
©Donald Brown 2010/2013
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