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Purple Bees Spurn Pleas
No chances to rue if wisdom prevailed
When bad blood to your head went
Alongside public approbation that hailed
The demise of goodwill lent and meant.
No early exit six feet under
Had horse sense hovered
Nearby to ensure blunders didn’t plunder
Golden opportunities that had your best bet covered.
No tears to shed, no fears spread
When at the right time wrong button you pressed
To play to the gallery as you sprayed rays of expiration on your bed
In a mood that left both of us depressed, oppressed and suppressed.
No rewarding return to learn, no honour to earn
Amid somber sorrow sown and grown in a row
Elongated and extended within an oblong urn
Cos two tendrils turned down a chance to grow.
Copyright ©
John Sensele
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