Loved, and shining with it, tin cup champion,
you step out, stand hard
in winter gleam, sunshine. Armed
with your lance, ice-tipped,
you’ll drive forth
along the motorways of Britain, Coldplay
cast on for company,
the blow that awaits you hidden;
still loved, unlost,
a lily.
1 comment:
I like the way the ells link this altogether. You're having a lot of word-fun, which is the best thing.
Don't get depressed about the poetry thing, BTW, I get like that too and keep having to remind myself that I do it because I must. No other reason to the rhyme.
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