Cranberry and butterscotch
repel each other,
on the tongue,
in the ear,
but not in minds keen
to the bittersweet ends
of deciduous leaves,
where minty spring dreams
sweeten long autumn naps.
Dave Read
Poems
Order should be imposed on my poems, but isn't likely to be until I turn to carpentry, or painting, to carry me through the day. The display here is latest first.