as you like it

and often the humming birds do sing
a tragic tale of valiant bravado
never once do they partake
the venomous words that prey

and then the little schoolboy
with freckles on a cheddar
skip over the puddles
dreams of the summers

and then the worker who toil
with which to take home
the spoils of his sweaty palms
and perchance to dream
a different dream

and then the aged with fluttering eyes
sits atop the bench as he sighs
the moments of consternation
seeking again, the bubble reputation

whereupon lie the carvings
while the bird perches itself
and then the wind doth blow
this way or that, you would never know..




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