Paper Bag

Discarded,

upon your concrete bed

in slumber… just a paper bag

  A breeze gently fills the air

Your slumber broken

You awake

You move your dancing feet

Waltzing, swaying

to a wondrous melody,

Fox Trot

Then the

Latin dance

A perfect show, a perfect remedy.

Enchanting the voice of the birds to sing

Joy

I am lost in fruitful bounty

At once, without warning

The wind blows quiet

returning you to your concrete bed

and

the curtain falls

to

end your show

 

 

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  © 2007 Robert Cashmore