The winding path goes ever on,
Her long black hair swinging
As the force of running causes it to stream
Behind her like the branches of a willow tree,
Swaying and tangling in the wind.
She runs ever forward, through the
On her head is perched a hat,
An absolutely sublime yellow hat,
The colour of bright sunflower petals,
And baby canary feathers.
Made of felt, the hat does bear
A wide band of black, to match her hair.
But on the hat, does trod
A confuzzled kangaroo!
Why it is there is not known,
Nor how it has appeared.
But appear it does, and squash the hat too,
So does the confuzzled kangaroo.
Alas, poor hat, the girl does cry,
as she buries it by the roadside
It lived a short life, but one full
Of strange sights surrounded by blue sky
As it travelled down the ravelling paths,
On the head of the black haired
(to match with the band)
Just something really silly that’s kind of made up of three separate snippets of poems that I drafted at one stage, and pasted and added to here. Don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense