with each taking hour, the harbinger remained, to bring out ferocity and expel in awkward charm, a once significant catalist. Setting it to remain that my hair stream forlorn, in each bite size, Alice would open up to my dreams, rearrange in order of red, through to pinks of hues. Rewrite in hours of new, capitulation, was never a chance. The searing heat for a market place rose, thickening with turmeric pleasure, all the more mellow to soften a stitching time.

love seas in seven, know its just a poet, thank him and be on your way. Paws I have nails of song, sparing with notes you exclaim not true. But still I hollow from them betraying hours, the rains of chill laudability of the witching, arriving tomorrow. Wet warm dry the sky lifts in exit, last days beauty has my hold.

hour the time, azure and indexed to bring out your love for cinnamon news, held tightly she remembers i dilate with much looking, to kill a speck ode to dust. Goods of a kempt reappraisal swell to find contortion, wishes trace a hinge to keep hints of vagabond mistrust away.

2019 Adam Blewett ©