won’t you come out to play?
Fitting Lego bits together, left in a cryptic lay
by a little girl whose intensity puts us all to shame;
April takes stained awnings in its jaws
and puppy-shakes the house until it rattles in its frame.
You thought maybe an simple life would rise before you:
it won’t: we’re only here
to change the guard. We have no use
for captains who can’t steer,
or gold braid, or teachers’ pets: dear Prudence,
won’t you come out to play?
1 comment:
For a couple weeks now, at odd whiles, Lennon's voice begins that song in my mind's ear, clear as a bell.
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