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I live in a golden palace,

Full with the very best of everything:

Shelter, sustenance, a silent welcome;

I never was one for displays of affection

On the occasion of a simply opening door,

Or is that merely an arrogant view?

I too listen for silences where I can,

With ears hissing gently in an empty room

As distant thunder rumbles uselessly.


This life can be such an impertinent burden,

Heaped like a delivery of river stones

Upon one's own property, without permission

Or even an emergent, insidious smile,

Used to tranquilize outrageous impertinence

Felt when one rises in anger from a chair.


Years and years pass as freight trains, thumping

Along ruler-straight lines of rigid necessity,

To arrive, hourly, at required destinations.


Thus non-conforming with the arched eyebrow,

The furrowed forehead, turns the point around:

A passing chance to turn away, to say “No,

Not now, I shall consider alone my own fate

According to my rules of peaceful conjecture;

The clock is forever ticking, and will not wait


For any dragging of feet. Time it is

To enjoy the brilliant scintillating hues

Of rain forest hummingbirds,

The crystalline, flashing colours of a coral reef

In the early morning sun:

A simple door to Paradise.



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Flamingos: A Sonnet ►


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