Where do you come from
You in fine feathers
And fine words?
My mother told me
Of birds and fine feathers
And not to be deceived
By fine words,
They don't put food
On the table
(She never got round
To buttering parsnips.)
Far too flighty.
There is nought more cheap
Than a heart upon a sleeve
Slashed sleeve in particular .
Always ready
With a deflationary pin
A ready flame to singe
The feathers
A heart situate
In the heart’s
Proper place
And just think on
You get what you pay for
and she knew
When quality shone through.
Sleeves and feathers
Fine silk shrouds
Had no pockets.
You arrive in the world
Without a stitch
And need none leaving it.
What you sow in between
Is what matters.
She never put you in your place
Just shot you down in flames.
JL Jan 26 16 :18
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