hester1
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06:02:05 pm on April 13, 2008 | # |
Thames Water Melon
And there we see it, the boy and I,
as we sit on a sight-seeing tour boat.
We see the sight of a watermelon
drifting a-bob, current carried in the chilly water.
It is wandering straight down the middle like a
tourist from much warmer climbs who
(enthralled by all that architecture)
doesn’t know the rule about staying on the left.
London’s steely eye stares down at us,
the boy, the melon, the river and I.
We stare back.
As the boy and I head west up river, the melon
heads east in the direction of the sea and the beautiful
city stands proudly to attention to the north and south.
And beneath us, beneath the boy, the boat, the melon and I
lies the murk and the muck.
The treasure trove that is the river bed,
lined with litter, secrets, dark things and the bones of the dead.
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tamsin kendrick 2:20 pm on 14 April, 2008 | #
Who knew melons could be so poetic!
hester1 4:14 pm on 14 April, 2008 | #
I was going to make a very filthy joke about melons just then….instead I’m going to leave it to your imagination (which sounds even worse).