On a walk in springtime

A little puddle interrupts the alley floor
Ripples tell of footsteps that echoed soon before
You pause for thought
and drip a little more

A stumble skins blister’s insistant sore
Company complete by slamming of a door
Insipid sip of port
you drip a drop more

Crows quarrel quietly, clamour and caw
Carrion, crumbling to knees, he implores
‘Come please to bore
damp eyes out with claws!’

A man on a mourning morn in May
May in morning mourn many ways
More men he weighs
in balance during dripping days

Sit by puddle interred in alley floor
Sit and study my muddy amore
Smilingly smell iron ore
as you drip a little more

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