A Little Boy and his Dandelion Clock
A Sonnet for Summer.
Beside lush green fields of toe tingling tease
Framed by 'come and conquer' climbable trees
Winds a dusty lane, nether of nowhere
Our time rich boy plays, on his way somewhere
A once golden line rests seeded, waiting
Whimsies of wishes ready for taking
His puffed up chest, full of glory sought sighs
His dreams setting sail into endless skies
One o clock, two o clock, three o clock. Blows.
A bounty of joy in each hope he sows
Sadly though, time comes in ticks and with tocks
And not made by boys with dandelion clocks
So, dream well young one ... tomorrow comes fast
Make each seed you sow ... a moment to last
About the Creator
Caroline Jane
Warm-blooded vertebrate, domesticated with a preference for the wild. Howls at the moon and forages on the dark side of it. Laughs like a hyena. Fuelled by good times and fairy dust. Writes obsessively with no holes barred.
Keep reading
More stories from Caroline Jane and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This is so sweet. And your little fella is so cute.