by smealek

Remember grass on the greener end

–her memory sounds.

Triumphantly, she shouts, “what amusement;

for I am certain, when I look up,

wave at the stars, they gesture, wink and sparkle!”

–How friendly of the nocturnal community–

She ponders momentarily,

“Why is the sun tucked away

missing out on such good mates?”

She contemplates,

“But why is it troubled when

the golden face grimaces

and takes it places;

the salty wind exudes;

the anchored ships sway?”–

it must be the industrious

sounds of wheeled machines

chiming in to claim their streets;

How ungrateful, these creations bullying

my natural acquaintances!