Imagine a memory flying from a poet tree:


Edgar Allen Poe’s tree house
Elephant here. Hides from mouse.
Poet tree. Dumbo and me.
Dumbo’s accent? Maybe Scouse?

Whither tree that withers here.
Dumbo and I both drink a beer.
Withering heights. Tree feels weak.
Deja vu? Destiny peak?

Dumbo never does forget.
I do. And I always sweat.
Dumbo flies beyond the skies.
I’m forever in his debt.

This entry was posted in poem, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s