Saturday, October 29, 2016

Red Cone(LF)267-Crunching


sheets are of soft cotton
the fragrance is fresh
nothing is rotten
never the less
head on the pillow
snuggled below
a night bird calls loudly
the head turns to follow
top soft sheet sounds crunchy
high hat recalled
the beat of the drum
the ear leaning into it
the rhythm of the bass
keeping time for the song
should be stone deaf
there is the crunching
of the soft sheet


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