Allow me to write it all up,
farmyard tales of
not-for-any-reason-blues
Once princes were made
of men in horses who
wrung a parrots’ neck to meet
their women
Shiny, glitzy tales, sturdy folksy tales
Swords and wits and battles to be won,
stars to be strung on a nights lustful yarn
The books wind themselves up
after being read, make themselves
a cup of tea and wait
For another human to reach another world,
a different coloured country,
a darker hued woman.
Allow me to turn this page again
and see if the yellowed letters
stole some stardust
from a long ago night
on that very bridge
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