It was the tumble return, those stern looks shook my threaded memories of combining the persuaded to redress a guilt of non compos mentis, took to stroke in four combined a medley lasting thought, first impression made the receding complexion fundamental of landing, for what has last through assembling mind, my matter of retaining the reposed need to exchange medley, turning through to conductive bends in altitude. Look no further to fall short then to change time, a challenge the metric could not return, beneath tones, lies octane for precision, semi conductive after stepping through space, exposing what lain bound to thought, execution gain in composing to a third a medley rounding to non compos mentis, looking forward to those remaining two. Had surpassed inaction, breadth outing nail bitten, shoulder her appointment for attuning lessons, masked by first placing the task doubting turn, a local thread, vane to uphold her story line, placing you beyond any compare.

2021 Adam Blewett ©