Blues catch like cold
(but untold and forlorn).
And you sniffle a little,
Then freeze into stone
On your park bench where (flaming
And swirling around)
The leaves that don’t touch you
Will rain on to ground;
Till children and housewives
And candyfloss men
With their lazy cries, crazy lies
Thaw you again.
Anyone who objects to the last rhyme shall go and re-read ‘Humpty Dumpty.’ Over and out.
Me likes! :-)
:D
Dude! Likey.:)