The idea of for ever is a thought
From a poet who died yesterday
With birth six months before me.
Bulls have got reprieve for a year
From playing unwilling run race
They do like their opposite bears.
Bulls will not live for ever on run.
Poet had come six months before
But her death was as of yesterday.
We may have reprieve until dusk.
We have crossing to do at corner
Where neem tree waves a breeze.
Poet had her own crossing to do
Between a yesterday and for ever
Bulls will do their own crossing.
The bulls are held by system tails
But their balls will not be for ever
And on a crossing to do with men.
Men are held by bulls in run race
Their tails are a trumpet blowing
Crossing their now for their ever.
All our for evers are approximate
By a day or two, a bull tail or two.
In the final dust everything is bull.