NaPoWriMo: Day 8

The green grass stood prickly,
(This sounds a little cliche),
Saw a squirrel, so smile I cheekily,
As it pawed and trotted away.

The oak tree rained acorns,
(My words seem disdain).
The clunk on head hit like a thorn,
but was mummed by the choo choo of train.

The train tracks tat-tat,
(Nonsensical lyrics I sprout);
Breeze hits my shoulder with a vicious pat,
As the sound concoction carries me out.

Now in blue sky, green park and sallow sun i sit,
(Ray's reflection blinding my eye),
While border-collar puppies suckle a tit,
And the wind brushed my skirt from my thigh.