Thursday, 20 August 2020

Tom Thumbelina

 

Tom Thumbelina

 

Wind whispering his consciousness

primps plump pages in skinny kiss

pinpricks the warm peel raising hair

delicious lite crisp bite of appley air

he grins those lessons wrote there.

Delight at each falling silken thread

speaks in books that should be read

lighting so slight draws tissue webs

with thoughts cocooned within two

she melt ice cream in swoony June.

Texts must sing of ha'sixpence songs

from a manuscript pages girl belong

old soft Motown grooves panting cry

suckling at my soul see where it flies

pull open petal rose and both will die.

Sticky a stickleback trickles drips like

Tom pushy Thumbelina in drippy dyke

shoves a thicken plastic in leaky holes

pouring on rubbery putty into moulds

finger driven cracks with sealing wax

crumbles for the want of what it lacks

when many will mumble acquired taste

commemorate such a muttered waste.




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