The pores of the earth open and spring pours forth,
stately in my land of ice and sand in the north.
Post-snow flows composed by mud rows
sneaking over pastel sandals and handling toes.
Sunday devoted to dismantling those
bright bits of plastic, spastically chose.
Chocolate coma, my casket is closed,
and trampled by their ample samples verbose.
On Grandma's couch, in grandson clothes,
I can hear the children build in repose.
In their world we filled in, no one has foes,
and I grew fat on that fact as I sat with eyes closed.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i like the last stanza best. the first and second one seem much more forced than your usual work.
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I'm suffering tremors of delight
I don't have to color eggs this year the aunts will be doing that so I will bask in the glow of silence. Then steal the chocolate when they get it. Easter is my third favorite holidy after Thanksgibing and Halloween. I can see the belly grow in this and the look of candied satisfaction. Make sure your grandson clothes are freshly pressed for the big day no wrinkles or stains to be had. We will have a green Easter this year I hope as usually the mud is thick and gets in the way of scaveging for plastic covered goodness. Here's a chocolate
for you!
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