Skies of glue

Stand up and quiver.
Please pay your taxis before leaving the tomb.
I don’t know why I love  so and so.
He’s gone over to a trombone.Or Rome.
Am I going bereft.
Shall we get cross and shiver?
Somewhere over when rain’s low,skies look glue.
Would it have made any difference if I had been a boulder you could have died on?
When we convey the horrendous loss that Britain cost the world.
Praise to the ford, we shall cross over the river safely.
I shall lift up mine eyes to your Will.
You must worship no other bod before me.Or after tea.
When we fell in love I felt your clutch, but where has the handbrake gone?
Well,what is a man drake,she asked furiously.
You,hell, me!
It could have been a curse.
What would Judas have said?


About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in thoughts. Bookmark the permalink.