the crown of summer
awakens from its slumber
it’s one of the deep skies’ treasures
glistening with butter-smooth silver

heo, a dreadful hunter with
prying eyes feasting on delicious wonders
‘an unattainable crown?
i wonder who’s the clown.’

the crown lies within a market
one of origins that’s exotic
its essence illuminates June and July
yet in truth is just a coiled thong

The Crown is a Leash
all Sin that’s prevalent, Ceases
its Meaning, Alien-Like
Crushing Reality in the Mind

the crown lies within a market
but none are up for sale
for it is just a fairytale
whilst the brightest gem, lies
75 years away from us

the crown of the north
makes us the royalty of solstice
yet those who try to steal the crown
is an absurdly idiosyncratic clown