by Brenton Booth
Sunny summers day
laying in bed
at 9:13 am
the penguins drinking
lemonade through
straws while
the green hills
of Africa kick a
penalty goal
and my neighbours
have all gone to
work and
all I can hear
is the tiny famished
birds in the courtyard
the soft rain at
Machu Picchu
the planes flying
into space;
the garbage now empty
and clowns already
taken away
wide awake on a morning
that reminds me of what
could be
if things went as they should.
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