May Frolic
i step among
the stone gnomes
and cement toadstools.
Footsteps my
only eloquence.
Not for tomorrow
For the frozen moons
in the stables
of my imaginary calendar.
Not for
yesterday.
Where the leaves swirl
In the currents
Of memories.
But for
this present
moment.
frolic anonymous
in my insignificance.
The fruit of joy
ripe
at this moment
in the silence
of my simple tongue.
Echoing out
into
the blessing
of being forgotten
as moths like time clocks
keep
precise the
pacing of stars.
Copyright © Andrew Rymill | Year Posted 2018
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