A lexicon got jammed in between a tree and a rock in the valley between the sky and that other thing that looks like upside down sky but ripples, oh that's right, a lake.
So the words fell out of the pages and spread around the green things growing there, oh yes, the grass and leaves.
And some sentences formed, some that made sense, some that didn't. But I didn't take note, and certainly didn't write any down.
As I was passing by in my car, with the window wound down, the sun in my side of face, it whispers by the hedge, tall so I don't see the lake with words splashing in.
Don't see the grammar getting wet, or damp punctuation
Instead I'm listening to Terry Wogan and something about traffic on the M42
And missing the ink dissolving in the water
No comments:
New comments are not allowed.