A social site for poets in Sydney.
This Thursday morning, bright and warm,
half- past eleven of the clock,
the gardens past their Summer best.
A youngish man of no apparent abode
seeks shelter among the ornamental shrubs.
Not yet mid-day, and his day is done,
he crawls away from the constant path,
to lie hidden and homeless, in the
shadow of that eminent place of
Art and beauty.
He has the sense to hide, to spare our
feelings, we…
ContinueAdded by william james falls on October 10, 2012 at 22:23 — No Comments
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