Bobiwawa
Bobiwawa! Crashing through the bushes!
Bobiwawa! Howling in the hills beyond the light!
Bobiwawa rustling in the bushes
just beneath the open window's light.
Ah, to walk across that room and shut that window;
or, to walk across that room, lean out, look down
and say, "Hello old friend.
Your eyes are very yellow in this pale moonlight.
Come in the door. The kettle's on the fire and
I have jam for breakfast. Come in my friend.
Come in, sit down.
Stay with me through the night."
Poetry by The Vulgar Peregrine
Read 301 times
Written on 2008-04-15 at 20:44
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|
John Lambremont, Sr. |
|
Kathy Lockhart |
