On the Penzance train...Constantly persued by the... Hovering full-moon
Thousands of pebbles...Each one unique...such riches...Here on Albion's shores
To fly or to die...Day of reckoning for the... Fledgeling Jack-daw
Look metal from the...Titanic...says a child...At play on the beach
Mind is not a vessel...To be filled...but a Fire To be kindled
Eight thousand equals...The sum of three cubes and is... It self a CUBE
Ciao for now PHM
Cheers,
Dan
I love the way the poem traces in and out, a pattern of embroidered knowledge ~
Peace and Blessings,
Christine