A Telling (best left untold?)


When it comes to poetry
and wordery,
i must confess i long to be seen,
over an old country fence,
catching wild flowers,
fluttering about like a white bird
caught 
in the lacy edge of a 
turtle dove sky
so,
 i wonder,
could you overlook
the cockatoo
in me
blinking at you
in bright blue glasses 
flapping about 
in my inside out sweatshirt
( don’t ask me how I know this, but outside in is better)
and other tomfooleries
peeping out of 
the top knot on my head
like hazel eyed limericks asking premature questions
rather 
than letting wonderings
simply… 
unfold 

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