A professional note
Played from the rocks
Struck with the sea
Whirling around
The glossy white grand
In the emperors' suit
Tied up in a bow
Ten-tendriled flippers
Clad in pressed cotton
Bear down on stones
Of black and cream
Zooming into the box
Below lies nail drivers
Giving in to gravity
To meet the silken string
Both percussive
And orchestral
On a swirling force
Spin lithely out
The ocean greets
A small cliff
Large enough
For 'Master'
And 'Me'
YOU ARE READING
In the Garden Primeval, where I'll pray for you.
PoetryI have a plan for you You'll deal with it all And with the weight of the world on your shoulders you'll face a fall People won't catch you Many times But I'll pray for you They'll come in time
