Pathetic (in)Fallacy
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Reading in the shade beneath the apple tree,
Each branch and bough defined by crisp-cut shadow,
(As is each mossy, mouldering gravestone,
In the valley of the shadow of death)
Searching for a Saturday Zen moment,
But pre-occupied by a football game,
Swindon versus Brentford, 15 miles away:
And in the graveyard I watch the spring-time Bees,
And I think I know what all this means.
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1