The Loss Of Everyday Goodness Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

There revealed from a bend in the river
Was the most perfect of little towns
A cathedral's cupolas crowning the bluff:
At the wharf a nose-bagged nag
And his tipsy, sleepy drosky driver.

Sophia, this is peaceful perfection
A place for us both to paint, to love:
I will be your frog here by the river
And you can sing to me from a terrace
And kiss me that I become a prince.

I have one small secret though
As an artist I despise the ordinary
And as a frog, I eat grasshoppers:
Be sure that you can set aside
The loss of everyday goodness.