Well O' wishes
Well O' lies
The truth but in the present
Rhymes
Like orange sectioned sweet
Oils cling to finger tips
The scales that weigh our worth
Holding fast to stony girth
And trace the ledge
With peacock plumes and silly song
Each pass presents presents
Are not why I threw this party
I would rather leave
Off rhyming altogether.
If I make no wish then what becomes of candle smoke?
If it isn't sawing then what is it?
Oh well
I lied when I said it was my birthday
And tomorrow's phantom wood chips seem irrelevant when night
Holds you fast instead
My fingers leaf
Oranges in your hair.