Spring lambs?
But it's snowing outside.
Lids are meant to close
And mutton's going off
In paper bags
Around weary eyes.
One, two, three
The fourth trips and falls
But I do not fall with it
Not I, not with hops or passion flower.
Lambs springing in my head
But these snow white sheets
Breed no dreams
Grass dies and browns
In locked chambers
Sheep dance over, over, over
And never cease
Am I the fallen lamb after all?
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