A voice to acknowledge, of this wondrous imp; are you my sound to the words inscribed, a park life and the silver dream?

You know her, that one, their pretty and always in here with the tightly fit tops, and they read Twilight, have poetry accounts. They neither on lemon highs or lace ups to the aristocrats; one has nails of pink you know the girl?

A lapidary of quartz beads, or a cap to style without wrap arounds, every Tuesday i see them both, you know the girl, mineral and raspberry lips, they have Pad Thai. I catch her number fours, like the other, the silvery of lips. To see of you a tomorrow.

2019 Adam Blewett ©