To Pine Away

 



My inner penquin
flies , it's true
you make my low
get up to high
altitude
I want to die , next
or by you
you're a butterfly
of complex
colour in view .


There you are
just thinking
with little stars
behind a blinking
I slow down
the time ticking
inside my mind
to catch everything .


Every hour
in each day , that passes
fine lines outbreak  
to all massive
you're the shake
that quakes
my walls , and camels
you make
the straws
that break
all their backs
in .



I cannot live
without Heather
she's my
micro climate
swirling
inner weather
and if I cannot
find , live my life
and bind to hers
I'll whinge and whine
for all I'm worth
right up until
I pine into
the earth .