Melons for Alison Poem by Geoffrey Donald Page
Melons for Alison
Lost in a field of
friendly melons
tossed in a vat of
thickened cream
licked by a thousand
fervent puppies
that was the substance
of my dream.
Did it really
howl and happen
somewhere in this
moonlit bed?
So many circles
of confusion
whirling in my
hapless head.
Did I dream
or was I there?
What acres were we
really in?
As now next morning
writing this
I smell the melons
on my skin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 1:38:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
