A Write Old Song and Dance
The dyslexic poet dances on.
Tuesday, 24 May 2016
Paper Flower
You gave me
a flower
made of paper
in neat folds.
At its heart,
concave petals
tightly ovate,
splay delicate rays.
Breaking free
of their enclosing
a star of sepals
they light up
the lazy morning.
Thank you for
the flower sunrise.
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