Pedalling out with a head full of steam
I saw a forty year old woman in Goth gear and boots
Grow up I thought
As she called after her running daughter

Children of this wilted rose
Waiting for the wicker man

Down the narrow path with a head full of dreams
I saw a man walking a cat
Or perhaps it was a cat walking a man
Either way they seemed to enjoy the company

Agents of the red rose risen
Wilting for the wicker man

Past the supermarket as I head for the cream
I saw a carrot haired man in union-jack shorts and tee
Scratching without hope at a lotto card
Would a win improve his dress-sense I wondered?

Ancient wisdom glass rose-tinted
Working for the wicker man

June 2012

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