reviving orchids with tea.

If You can’t stomata Mach one

Maybe we can Revive you like orchids 

with tea that will no longer grow 

on the salted breeze where peacocks tap dance

And freely wished they had brought a hat.

No point preening at the Lost feathers 

Or the seafronts that you can’t see from here

and let’s Leave the hypocrites to the fighting 

Amongst the remains of precomputerised slacks.
Whilst trying to Sweeten tales And Grapple 

with the thoughts that red and white poles 

Are a weeks shave away.
Why don’t you pull up your chin 

And Are you stocked up on compliance chairs

And made to measure suits.

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