To roll a bowler down a sleeve braced
for weathered words that wore thin
that left there eight bit mark
in a mushroom linking arms
with polished chromed.
The clock restrained by time and the conscious
Forget as Eyes locked like the mind.
sprung movement that a chalk to a Baird feed
Dreaming of closing ceremony’s
The Last sentence started with a lick of
yetis odourless nutcrackers.
With A splash of milk for the tea maybe a mermaid
Would come up for air and share a story of the
Sea and carry you too follys seen from the shore.
The netting cut around the village.