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
in the lacy edge of a 
turtle dove sky
 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
than letting wonderings


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