I've Written A Story To Cover Up A Manhole

I've written a story to cover up a manhole. I wore a blindfold for the first two chapters. And then I removed my eyes and rolled them. To the ants in the field waking up from the fog And then I sang with a blackbird who asked How did you lose your precious eyes in the daisies? So you sing like you feel oh, a bird of the night. So you sing like you are a nightingale. In love with your blood, your brotherhood So you have written how the pussywillow Open up its bud and drink only love. But when the woodpigeon cooed, it distilled Something more real in your veins, Stopped you in your tracks, a distant potion Like a train whistle woke you up. The fog cleared, and yet still nothing was written. It's getting naked in your birthday suit when you feel Oh, I am just a bird with wings of love. It's getting naked in the fog of warring ants. If you see, the shore of love is never far to cross.