Poets' Corner Waterfall A billion wounded white soldiers, crashing down from their final barricade. Misty spirits rising, to join their ancestors in the air. Thundering bass voices, accompany the bird song. Spirals of bubbles, burst into coloured light. Spray forms a haze, leaves bend, spilling dew.
Willows dip their boughs, sore from crying, into the pool below.
The sun is a spot of yellow paint on a piece of blue paper. It's a candle flame in a pitch black room. A bright yellow kite in the clear sky on a windy day. Or maybe even a yellow boat alone at sea. It's a sunflower surrounded by clusters of bluebells.