THE SUNDAY WHIRL
presents us with this wordle.
We are asked to make a poem from it.
REJUVENATION
What does it matter if the breeze
Sweeps all the dead leaves from the trees?
If all the dry brown residue
Should turn to dust as dead leaves do?
The trunk remains all sturdy, growing,
A vessel for the life not showing.
I fervently believe this truth.......
Within our skins lies latent youth.
We wear a cloak of wrinkled age
But, through us, youth will take to the stage.
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SKYSCRAPINGS!
If you scrape the sky in Sydney
You end up with a mass of blue,
With one or two little white bits
Gently passing through.
*
'Hurry up!' my friends all told me,
'We really cannot wait
For you to take a photograph!
Already we're quite late!
What's so special, anyway?
Just a great glassy sheet!
No need for you to stop and click
In the middle of the street!'
And so the others surged away
In a great big friendly bunch,
Off to a favourite restaurant
To have a bite of lunch.
While I stood taking photographs
With 'reflections' on my mind.
And then I had to rush like mad
For I had been left behind!
*
If you scrape the sky in Sydney
You end up with a mass of blue,
With one or two little white bits
Gently passing through.
*
