A Sliding Slice of Precious Peace
Gimme a break, Drake
In the space I own
In May, June or July to rake
In tonnes of peace without the groan
That serves no useful purpose
In the scheme of strategies I adopt
To rid my life of the toxic venom from the hind legs of your platypus
In circumstances and settings you co-opt
Cruising without aim into a dead end
From which I stray to preserve the serenity
I earn in peace urns that mend
Fuses, plugs and valves in the sovereignty
In which I fly aloft
The rocket propelling me to Venus
Where in tandem with Hermes and Cupid I climb aboard the loft
Where love once lived in pomp and splendor until fuss
Turned the tables
Crushing hopes I nurtured
In my thoughts, feelings and plans sauntering on gables
I thought you and I cultured
With a view to consolidating pre-nuptial plans
We’d painstakingly built
In the absence of adversity guns
That vowed we’d never fight the good battle to the hilt.
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