Peacock Feathers and Paper Plates....
My wooden dappled rocking horse
Chomping at the bit
Eyes deranged with fearsome fire
Does make my stomach flit
And whilst we race
At perfect pace
Within the purple yonder
No time to sit on laurels dear
Blow dandelions nor ponder
In hot pursuit
And silver soup
Carrots golden tempt refined
Forgetting where from whence they came
(So pitifully mined)
Past burnt glades
And auburn maids
All leaning at the fence
Smiling cheering so enthusiastic
Glorious pretence
The finish line is not yet raised
Nor shall it be
If ever
So I'll just smile and veer off course
And stroke a peacock feather
For in it's eye
Down to it's base
Generous shades to bring a smile
Hues of horizons past and fore
To relish for a while
Once I de board my rocking horse
And accept what is my fate
Mushy peas and stodgy pie
Upon a paper plate
My cloche has stains
Yet it remains
Firmly on my head
Whist ladybirds move in deceived
As they are born and bread
A spotted array
On golden hay
Smiles at nought at all
Just tinkers on dreams of better things
Wishing....
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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