Palms rough as bark, callus and blister sore
Trusty pen knife cut apple, discarded core
Feet beat barefoot, pounded on ground
Hark thee, d'ya hear the sound?
Toot o’tawny male, sat up in old oak tree
Oh! Beloved Angel, for where must he be?
Moonshine shimmer and rustle of breeze
Amongst trees, the sudden sneeze, cough, chest, phlegm be a hinder
Teeth gnarl, tear and cry, pass by rotted tinder
Near water, someone’s daughter
Dirt of the earth, it be her mother
There lives the other, it stays undercover
Offers old hand, to share from the land
Young rabbit for fire and juice of old fruit
No mention of words, verbally mute
© 2024. Mrs WH
