Close,
White bloom.
Rusty red
Roof and pitter
Of warm rain.
Dirt smell
Here.
Sun.
Two boots.
Butterflies
Across the weeds.
Eyes wander
And play.
Noon.
Small
Hands make
Sand castles
In the roses.
Forget-me-not
Blue and
Sky.
White bloom.
Rusty red
Roof and pitter
Of warm rain.
Dirt smell
Here.
Sun.
Two boots.
Butterflies
Across the weeds.
Eyes wander
And play.
Noon.
Small
Hands make
Sand castles
In the roses.
Forget-me-not
Blue and
Sky.
Note: I was aiming for a slight nonsensical feel to this poem - William Carlos Williams meets e.e. cummings, maybe? Let me know what you think.
