Poem 422 – 16:00

Two children run about the ball,
Free as two skylarks, although of course
Neither’s heard a skylark sing,
Although they know a phone by its ring;
They’ve never gazed at a sun-topped bird
Delighting in the dawn, and never will –
The city is spreading, the skylarks are dying;
But still, at least the ball gives a thrill.

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