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Poetry
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| His Billy and His Bones | |
| By NedWilson | ||||||||
| 29 March 2008 | ||||||||
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The thrill of composition! Winter morning Bitter cold Words all frozen hard, behold! The ghost makes fire in last night's stones To warm his billy and his bones. Frost dust blows Down from the trees Rhymes are useless, they just freeze! But now the billy's on the fire Spirit's rising higher and higher! The gypsy camp About to break Dawn is bubbling in the sky Fingers loose and words a pyre Billy's boiling, bones on fire!
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