Word Block Poem by GRANT FRASER

Poem falls on it's face,
I pick it up,

dust if off!

your not so bad,
it's just me, trying to
do the best I can...

So the Bee does fly away,
and the fly gets squashed,

I think we might be related...

You don't need to be clever
to climb out of your own cage,

and a scribble could mean
absolutely anything to anyone,

so where are we then?

while pointing and heading
the other way...

in a rush, probably,

and I can't get a word out,
without another turning on me...