(My last final is tomorrow. Wish me luck. My methodology for this poem was simple: nonsense was my theme. I intended the words to mean nothing, and yet a story evolved.)
I never learned to cry
and never sought a song.
Last night I saw th’ marrow
and wish I died today.
We cannot rest right now
and lean against this post.
We worked to build this fence
and now we can elope.
You held my heart away
and sold it for tuppence.
You left me in a haze,
and all the world’s nonsense.
Tale Told 