Patient primping queen
regal citrine
black-veined soft thing
flicker on a milkweed gate.
Lost on its journey miles
deep forest cries
no home to fly
sun fingers suffocate.
What do you know lovely
banter with honeybees
signals in trees
gilded small weight.
Leaves live no more
caressed in arms sore
subsistence a chore
leave it be--it's too late.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for Peculiar Children
PoetryThis is a second anthology of my more whimsical and curious poems. They aren't so much for children, though anyone can read them!
