He Was the Poet Davies William H

He wrote of little puffs of white clouds as sheep, created mental pictures of little “Bo Peep.” He’d lived the difference betwixt land and sea, acclaimed the concept of the incessant busy bee. He strolled within the wooded lanes of “Leisure” Disclosed “Tottering Knees” In living bliss. “Velvet Bums” Reduced to this? Golden wheat in waves of splendour, hearts that flow in streets of haste! Vixen breeze with implicit agenda, children in darkest slums abate! Made time to turn at “Beauty’s Glance” Then watched her feet “How he made them dance.” He was the poet “Davies” At home within the cloud wrote his own epitaph to us, a hereafter crowd! © Harry J Horsman 1998