Copper shades of brown
inevitably must rust,
what goes up must come down
digusted by wind gust;
reality is often grim
discarding prayer gusht,
should she trust him
in eventual ashes & dust;
without the sun there's still a moon
as in God we trust,
rotten apples uneaten are strewn
and of bread remains a crust;
fishes in water are not drowned
inviting mermaid as guest,
when water & metal rust found
and in baptising we be blest;
the wind endeavours to find a mind
without as much as having to scout,
the peeled orange leaves rind behind
in effect out and about. |
