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| ‘Butterfly Blue’ image by Stergo (Pixabay.com) |
As doldrum blue adorns the sky
Frost, the poet, tattoos my thigh
His butterfly, I try to shoo
It’s ice-cold burn bites me right through
It’s not my thing to have the sky
Complete with bugs upon my thigh
I try to say I love it not
But does he listen? Not a jot!
I do not want the beasts from high
Trapped down here, as they might die
They’ll dry and wrinkle with my skin
And start to sag, as I grow thin
At Frost, the jerk, I glare and sigh
I’d like to bake him in a pie
With prong, I’d see him done right through
His top, I’d glaze with icing blue!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 2019
Inspiration take from the poem ‘Fragmentary Blue’, by Robert Frost.
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 