Poem of the Day — Craving Tale

Craving Tale
Whipped in fiscal glory.

Mixed up, emotionally stale;

Like breadcrumbs scattered on a hot tin roof.

Four cats to paw:

Menacingly touching paper until scorched.
Left to my own devices

Leaping from trumped up barges

On a river of discontent

Filling a larder with the ricochet from rejected bullets

Sold for a purpose.
Crushed into a soluble escape mechanism:

Just wishing on lively lighthouse keepers.

Washed away, in waves of passing greetings.

Gesturing in poverties way;

Whilst living life with sequins that sparkle against pink plastered walls.
While the old lady knits

Two perfect jumpers in tandem

Released from prisms of light

Reflected on the tarnished mirror

Beacons lit to describe the neighbours assets
Too hard to resist the soft dressed mistress

Anchor revealed

And set in timeless motion
Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 31th August 2015

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