Violets Spring/Fair/Unpolluted
You can sense him in his house
At the end
In the garden
Reeking of Susannah’s herbs and potions
John Hall’s pretense
Her real man
Grabbing
Staining her sheets
Cuckoldry coming home to roost
To rest
Aching with whatever killed him
The
Ague
He loaned (in perpetuity) to Falstaff
The anguish of old age in an age
He would never know
Leaving Lear
With the last
Laugh
To lie in the marriage bed he gifted
Flowers in the garden along the forefront of his house
Collector’s items
To die
To sleep
Perchance to rest
In peace
The world a better place
For the time of the season
Of the man of the millennium
We will visit him
Through those pressed flowers
We will visit him
Visit him again
Soon
So it goes
So it goes
So it goes
When we are born
We cry
That we
Are come
To this great stage of fools
Sunday, 02 May 2010
dykiegirl 