In My Sunday Morning Mews

in my sunday morning mews

with views of summers after-thought

through second-hand confetti in a ball.

am in a lemon sorbet mood

where cuts the cringe of northern lights.

my tongue alive with wishes 

of an oriental theme.

a gentle breeze of metaphors 

too many words that fail my brittle tones

I am all but one. a braver man than this.

there are people here with energetic smiles

who wile away my hours 

through trials and tribulations

to run amok left-handed on a flare.