Four plums on my table

Dark red and ripe.

Sweet and juicy.

I also have chocolate cream biscuits

In the shelf

The sun will rise soon and

I can’t stop singing

I could get on my bike

I took a ride today

I was cycling on flatland when suddenly there was

A sudden down-slope

Effortless, exciting speed

Then followed the up-slope

Tiring, panting…

I ride on my bike.

But I’m singing.

I’m singing her song about a flying bird

She sings of secrets

She sings of plums and plans

Of planes and lands

Of delayed understanding

Of happy realisation

Of the heart that aches

Of biscuits and shelves

Of yearning anticipation

Hunger, and sleep deprivation.

She sings of budding love

Like a shy spring blossom,

Of a hyperactive imagination

And of a thousand dreams.

This song is not my song

It is just a catchy tune

About boats and rowing

Reading and rhyming

Watching and crying and

The other thousand plums.

I have four here on my table.

They are dark red, ripe

Sweet and juicy.

See also