Small Ode to a Violet
On tips of ice-encrusted toes,
she waits for spring
to warm the woodland trails;
then from her purple-dimpled pose
on green brocade
she quietly exhales.
Random Query
Who draws the map,
selects the route,
then hires the crews
to set the rails
that trains of thought
will chug along?
Sun Dazed
The sun saunters westward,
trips over horizon's rim,
tumbles into the arms of night...
...climbs groggily up the eastern slope,
straightens her hat, smiles perkily
and heads west again.
Alice, lost again...
Hurly burly garbage bins
are chatting up a storm;
belly-button mannequins
are trying to keep warm.
Ribbons float across a lawn
where rocks of rage were hurled.
Someone puts a handle on
the suitcase of the world.
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Daylight Saving Time
Morning
rides on moments
summoned by the clock; night,
aghast at such audacity,
still walks.
Thoughtless
I had a Thought;
guarded it closely,
walked it faithfully,
fed it well.
Then yesterday
while sunning itself
on my window ledge
it fell
three stories below.
I guess it's dead.
Does anyone have
a thought to sell?
© Laryalee Fraser
Index
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