Sunday, 20 March 2011
The Sunday Post
Hullo ma wee blog,
The rain makes a drumming on the roof
and a splish-splash on the road.
Nothing makes one sound only.
That cloud is a camel, a weasel, a whale.
Hamlet was right. Nothing
has only one appearance.
Your laughter, your talk, your weeping.
I collect your hundred of semblances.
I store you in the cabinet of my mind
I'm a connoiseur, in love with the value only
of priceless things.
Though my eyes blur, I look at these treasures.
Though my hands tremble, I touch them.
Though my heart grieves, I love them.
And a seed falls from a tree and
in its lowly cabinet sets about
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