Fictionate Return
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2008
When we came back
I had a song in my head
But my arrival shook me up
And now my masterpiece is dead
We were driving through an alley
Of slow shephards and greeny fields
With all four wheels on the road
And a row of leafs on our windshield
Then a cow stepped out in the breeze
And it stopped to gaze at as
As we came riding along the road
Trapped inside a mintgreen bus
The cow just stood there
And the driver swerved in despair
Into a line of sheppherds
And herds of screams feld through the air
We landed without speaking
With few bones broken
It all happened so fast
And this poems just a token
The smell of oil and shattered glass
Bioling blood and sunbathed grass
At the end of a tinted day
Let it last, and wash the sparkling rays of sunshine
Away