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 our home, this world below,
The Cave of Poppycock.
Edward A. Morris
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plato-s-cave-5/
