Pattern me pretty,
an armful of roses
without the thorns.
Delicate brushstrokes,
all hazy sunshine,
meadowgrass and corn.
Hung from schoolbuses,
my never drying paint
says no borders here.
Colour me daily
and on the arrival of rain
we'll declare a holiday.
Dance crazy on paving,
flutter mad in the breeze;
open the city gates wide
and dowse love on the small cuts
on each others' knees.
Harry Gallagher
