Weasels walk ‘neath
waxing white wheel
while white water waiters
whisper in Wakashan.*
With words wild and wandering
they wean the wallpaper with
wide-eyed warning.
as wisps of women waltz
with wanting wanderlust
in war-torn Warsaw.
Workaholic warlocks warrant
warriors’ wisdom when
wheezing walkers wizen with
womanising wounded wondering
why woolsorter’s** waits
where whales wallow in workhouses.
Worldliness winds worship into
would-be wistful war.
Why was one weaning wheel
so wrathfully wrought?