Very Bad Archive
Into the Rising Sun
David Thill
Oh, my dear, you are so beautiful.
You are like a summer breeze that runs through my hair and ruffles it so that it combs over and folds like a crisp piece of paper.
When you're gone, I wail like a little child,
You make my hot day mild.
I want to run with you into a stack of hay
And wriggle around and play, play, play.
If I were homeless and living on the streets,
I know you would take me in and give me some of your delicious eats.
And cure my disease and feed me and bathe me,
In a warm candlelit bath you would totally save me.
One day we will grow old on our front porch
That we purchase with low interest rates in the summer of '18.
And when the contractors come and try to foreclose us,
We'll put balloons on our house and fly away together
Into the rising sun.
David Thill has published since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of David's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of David's latest works: