Thunder rolls on wheels
of steel, cascading from

Thor's desire. Roses mock,
and ants labor on, while

the sun hides behind China,
and the moon, white knuckled,

clings to the sky. Party on
in your best silk dress, dance

with shadows of a former self,
smile the crooked smirk

as if you could coax
that child back again.

Hey -diddle-diddle, quick
step to the fiddle,

pretend you love the tune,
Jack-be- nimble, but forget

the thimble-the tapestry
unravels too soon.

02/09/2002

Posted on 02/09/2002
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce