In Plato’s cave the poppies grow
Enchantingly, it seems:
A soothing, soporific show
Of mesmerizing dreams.
In Plato’s cave the roosters crow
And proudly call the sun.
They preen and strut and claim to know
Its fiery light, each one.
The poppies grow, the roosters crow,
Though shadows on a rock.
We call this only world we know
The Cave of Poppycock.
Ed Morris, 2014
This page copyright © 2014 Edward A. Morris. Created September 1, 2014. Last updated August 29, 2015.
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