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.