Author: Jonathan R

“This cold will be the death of me.”
I think that’s what I said
as I was leaking snot,
more than could fit inside my head.

Any time, any day
Pick a place and pick away
Pick the pace up, spread your wings
Pick up shiny, sparkly things

Heroic of stature (and sometimes of deed)
My knight goes a-questing, and I am his steed
I gallop away with the utmost of speed
We go to the aid of a lady in need

Same procedure as last year
And they will learn, yet again,
how willing you are to bleed
Scrape, shred, shear and shed
to become sharp

One would think ‘large’ and ‘elusive’
Are mutually exclusive
But ‘largely elusive’ implies ‘somewhat known’
Told, more often than shown
Imagined, embellished, countless rumours sown
Everyone with a version of their own