A scattering of nonsence

by

Emma - Louise Braiden

The moon is ripe.
The chestnut said,
Those hills will bring the dawn.
Please rest your head.
That chestnut said,
For soon a day is born.
That star above,
This chestnut read,
Does twinkle like the rest.
The sky it loves.
Thine chestnut read,
T'will soon complete it's quest.

I disagree,
The oak replied.
You know not what you say.
You surely lied.
The oak then sighed,
And turned his head away.
A moon that's ripe,
This oak exclaimed,
Is but a load of tripe.
As is a star,
Thine oak did claim,
Not found beside a stripe.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Without You
by: Barbara Jean Omachel
from: Lake In The Hills, IL, US

To visit all of Emma - Louise Braiden's poems, click HERE

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