Pink petals mourn the flowing fount,
Leave hollowed husk to fill again,
With sacred velvet born from life,
To death with wit's false hope it bleeds the same,
Rose carnations bloom.

See the sunny tide,
A rolling ripple endless to the sky,
A blue-cast dancer in the spotlight of the day,
The pebbles fold into their multitudes on the shore,
They huddle too in silent waves.

Clocked off,
Sun's taking a nap,
Food's squished senseless,
Feet trodden flat-

-Lining air socks,
Just vapourous, silly,
Not really there like our imaginary friend Billy,
And my thoughts roam free on the page,
Someone call the sleepy-boy-sage,
He's got some tired rhymes,
When it's sleep times...
Zzzzzzzzzz.