A Bird’s Song

Dear Lily, Dear Livered- come, don’t be afraid.

You won’t find no mousetrap, I’ll let you play.

My hair don’t flame, no obscurity, nor dark shade.

Some say my kind is more like champagne.

Drink till your gems burst, heels over head.

Stratagem in motion, partake of my spread.

Poor Helter, Poor Skelter- insipid and haste.

Contort! ‘Tis metal you taste!

I tempt, I dine, I feast on swine.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Pam Diggs says:

    Very nice….just wish I would have gotten “it” lol

    Liked by 1 person

  2. more to come, more to ponder


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