Mr Mascellani's Musings

It’s 3 a.m.
and, once again, I find myself
naked in the local municipal park,
talking with the daisies who proclaim:
“Soon it will start to rain marmalade”.

Sure enough, marmalade
sweet, thick, sticky, and orange
oozes down my hair, face,
back, chest, belly, butt, and legs.

This heavenly sent and scented substance,
this marmalade, mingles with my tears
as it brings back memories of domestic jubilance.
And the daisies sing:
"Vesti la giubba, e la faccia in farina".


Critique