02-09-2013, 05:19 AM
2nd Edit
Water coloured garden, vibrant and balanced,
flower heads dance with unseen touches
the fanfare of squeals, gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's head home,
tiny wings trace figure eights.
Tin tray and pots brew on our seat
cups wait aside crumbling rewards,
ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim the moment,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.
Stella snaps at a hover fly,
she's spread, under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm drinks,
best china clinks, fingers rise,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
We slide, embraced,
sleep finds my lolling head,
and thoughts nod unfinished.
Landing tiptoed, beaks tap for their supper
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.
1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.
The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.
Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.
Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.
The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.
The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.
Water coloured garden, vibrant and balanced,
flower heads dance with unseen touches
the fanfare of squeals, gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's head home,
tiny wings trace figure eights.
Tin tray and pots brew on our seat
cups wait aside crumbling rewards,
ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim the moment,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.
Stella snaps at a hover fly,
she's spread, under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm drinks,
best china clinks, fingers rise,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
We slide, embraced,
sleep finds my lolling head,
and thoughts nod unfinished.
Landing tiptoed, beaks tap for their supper
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.
1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.
The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.
Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.
Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.
The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.
The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.
Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out