Across the Sky
The garden patch afloat with Insy-bettaroots
was fully grown yet barely touched my boots
across the sky a kite flew high
I liked it, I won't lie
Where once a troubadour sprang forth
with all his poetry of worth
a stadium pole stood straight
but held no stamin-weight
That countryseat of sweet abode
that once was frizzled with agoad
lay baren like a dessert pitch
enpoorened, no not rich
The troubadour of valor I once knew
forsook all colors except blue
he plucked his very last
then left the grounds, aghast.
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2018
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