A Slumbering Daisy

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Death is a daisy slumbering

by the fervent Madonna's feet

And those thousand delicate scents,

Dusky as an armpit,

Crimson as a heart,

Slumber in the forms of naked women

Who rest in fields or wander streets

In quest of love's faintly gilded strawberry.

Blue, Blue arose and fell.

Spiky, Thin whistled and sought to intrude, yet

did not pass through.

On every corner there was a din.

Fat Brown was ensnared, seemingly for eternity.

Apparently. Apparently.

Great big houses suddenly collapsed. Small houses

remained standing, unscathed.

A thick, hard, egg-shaped orange cloud hung suddenly

over the town. It seemed to dangle from the steep

steeple of the Town Hall tower, tall and angular, and

radiated violet.

The citizens heard a guttural cry.  Which brought tears.

Profound feelings of great despair. 

As some realized beneath fingers, a realm unfolds,

in keys and strings as a tale retold,

of Handel's hand and heart's decree

A symphony of pure esprit.

:: 05.12.2024 ::