Saturday, December 2, 2017

Hyde Park

Leaves tinseled
With sunlight
Whisper above me
While wisps of
Wind frolic
Amongst branches
Swaying in
Symphonic irritation

I lie below
What is above
Not the tinselling
Or the frolicking
Nor the whispering
But the
Symphonic irritation

The symphonic
Irritation of
Nerves stretched
Taunt, over strung
And tightened
Twang against
The metallic tones
Of muted skies.

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