L;eaf blown backwards,
Sucked down a drain.
Meet gutter goblin.
And her thousand kids.
Occassional sun does pour in.
But its few and far between.
Leaf blown backwards,
Tumble down street.
Compressed by tyre,
Shredded by feet.
At least I'm free of the tree that,
Clung on so dear to me.
It comes out from a hole to gloat.
Cross-eyed and tongue hung out.
The frog that lives inside my throat,
And toad that guards my soul.
Could it be that...
All that is needed is imagination.
No well trained eye,
Or jumped up mind.
My favourite poems,
Come from pure emotions.
My favourite paintings,
Are painted by kids.
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