I tried To tell you a little bit about
Imagery of apples above my head
now Pouring out from brass goblets
And the story’s based On patterned backed cards.
brought in thrift store paid with coins
the wisdom of first lost teeth
Saved in green cut glass.
From where a bench used to rest outside
Apparently torched during a Fawkes symphony’s
Views of a marketed street where you can still find
stalls of threaded tapestries.
as a Fire walk started upon cold charcoals
Burnt umber feet now Quashing
blue rumours on a flooded river
a jetty weighed heavy with thimbles
ships await sail the worlds words bass thumbs
And with friends seen off I walk around library globe
As a matching games sparks and burn diary
And what became of ashen swept collections.