Bumble Bee Poem by Alexander Thompson

Purple thoughts aroused by currant rain,
the fleeting thoughts that twist and clog the vein,
image of an empty space that fills the sky,
and icarus gave us wings to make men fly,
the soggy moth that dormant passes by,
as if it wernt enough to idly try,
make barron thought my solem hope,
or hang me with no will to cope,
gentle half of me,
an arabesque to freely be,
id rather be a bumble bee,
than made moth with soggy crumpled cloth.