Gibberish

By David Allaband
February, 2010

When clover
grow over
the snows
of November,
I wish I could
but think I should
first consider,
the weather
of things
come hither.
Then wonder,
what would be thought
if I asked anew
what times before
had known through you.

End

I was trying to say something with this, but I never figured it out, and the whole thing came out like gibberish.