The ground rose
Meeting my face
Refreshing, I laid
Inhaling shame
Wondering
Why don’t we hear people
Discussing the smell of stone?
It rocks

The story is sad
You stepped in with a closed heart and closed mind
But you said open
I find this hard to believe
That the child deceived
You

And if she did lie
I cannot fathom why
An open heart or open mind
Could decide
On abandoning
A human

Ume is the name of my petals
But you don’t celebrate them
You splash with berries
And my more popular relatives
Without thought of me
Drowning in a raindrop

You are the apple of my eye
I saw you first in the moon’s hollow sigh
Yodelling aromatically on your bike
Smoother than the speed of light
A babbling brook who overtook
Summer on the way to Hythe
Motormouth of the south
Heading west
In jest
I guess

The cold Fall
Above all
You shook off the leaves
The maple was your staple
Achievement
Melting the magma
Of my heart

Envy moved out
Of doubt
And in with the win
Who sanded their edges
To give hope again
Ad libitum

A light tintinnabula
Walked along behind us
Scruffy and just
Announcing our lust
Like a trail of dust
Yes, we must
Go to the moon again soon

130 yards
In an easterly curve
Keep sea on your left
Until the mint green door
Fall into a slightly southern swerve
Follow the smell of freshly baked scones