Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Lobsters Bearing Roses

More poetry. This one came out of a fucked up dream I had once. (I partially blame Stephen King for said dream. Read his "Dark Tower" books. You'll understand.) I'm posting it in honor of Lindy and her lobster ;)

He sat serene.

It was his tree,

every branch, every leaf.

And today he sat in his tree,

staring up at the sky.

He heard voices below him.

Looking down, he saw a group of creatures

at the foot of the tree.

They were lobsters bearing roses.

“How are you?” he called.

One, the leader of the group, answered,

“I was fine before the music went wrong.”

He was sincerely sorry for the lobster,

so he picked an apple to throw to the poor creature.

That was no small feat.

Seeing as his was an oak tree.


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