The Danish Word
The lonely Swedish man
Whose piano never sleeps
my mother bakes a fine french stick
He likes clay because of the texture
Soft at first, then hard as stone, like his
Conscience
Funnily enough
His head was not a storyline
"And why," he asked himself, "the hell not?"
His own Arabian Nights remained
"Because," I said to him, "Your Mum
Remains a legend
in his own lunchtime, not to mention all the other meals.
Contributors: | fingers, Roland, Gwynster, ganmeister, Gwyn, loaf, Anon.. |
Poem finished: | 15th April 2004 by Anon.. |