Well no, no cause so shelf-pie simple:
disobedience in a dimple.
No hermits’ urge-certainty
via concuss discovery.

Neither dessert, nor transfix of eye.
But how the heavy roads ran, before, behind.
Too, what caught the manly drift
that as boy fed travels’ itch.

That later went roar of pipe,
not un-Lion like, Ape-hanging on a bike
a whole continent aimed,
as rolled, went, came.

But let’s be clear, it wasn’t here
that without subsidy went
on trail, highway and surprised sidewalk.
Dad, Mom and Sis buoyed paying hind, delinquent rent.

So that now, all that escape and power
decades spent, down from its tower; we had our hooligan hour!
And low, in comfy squat, quiet in no route,
under the apple tree staid, silent, does not romp.

Copyright © 2019 (Early Dec.) – 05-2020 Joseph Duvernay.