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Peacock Feathers and Paper Plates

My wooden dappled rocking horse Chomping at the bit Eyes deranged with fearsome fire Does make my stomach flit And whilst we race At perfect pace Within the purple yonder No time to sit on laurels dear Blow dandelions nor ponder In hot pursuit And silver soup Carrots golden tempt refined Forgetting where from whence they came (So pitifully mined) Past burnt glades And auburn maids All leaning at the fence Smiling cheering so enthusiastic Glorious pretence The finish line is not yet raised Nor shall it be If ever So I'll just smile and veer off course And stroke a peacock feather For in it's eye Down to it's base Generous shades to bring a smile Hues of horizons past and fore To relish for a while Once I de board my rocking horse And accept what is my fate Mushy peas and stodgy pie Upon a paper plate My cloche has stains Yet it remains Firmly on my head Whist ladybirds move in deceived As they are born and bread A spotted array On golden hay Smiles at nought at all Just tinkers on dreams of better things Wishing.... That is all (please note the rocking horse represents my sense of urgency when i was younger to achieve something... anything)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

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Date: 6/2/2012 7:57:00 AM
accept what is my fate Mushy peas and stodgy pie Upon a paper plate I am so taken by this lovely poem. Doesn't that crazy rocking horse slow down with age. Oh to learn to enjoy the ride. love, Kathy
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