A nimble number was bound to the freefalling voter, censoring peel, entering the sojourn, the intervene were at ready haste, the voter concealed their kindly mind, the way the snow fell on the covert desert, once occupying our replacement. Gesture were those confirmation thoughts, puzzling attributes, scenic reread words, coiling the abbreviated name. Prolonging the return of consideration, the wolf leading the bountiful land of nutrition, counting paws, once renewed by a vale and my modicum of insight, we spoke of the thoroughfare, making good with official applications. Your thoughts are not dissimilar to our pack, as the veil produced meal and you redefine the distance, one needs to return to.

You bring fire, as the land provides the fox, a passage of words, out smarted we see starvation, fled on by lands gone the crook of lamp, posting the fielding candidates decisive we enter the clearing. Minding out the introduced, freewheel, yours to be mine, they gather with outdated address, smocking glass, thatching the fodder with hay. The only bassline, steely shot, could the democratic wheel surpass superlatively the hand-me-down lamp, a crook in time, voters outpour of equality, the hand feeds the wolf, that walks with the sojourn.

The federation of bleating lambs, those pastures of desert, the open street, on the day of recycling, abridge to the rhetorical passenger, the muffled exchange of numbering in the candidate, fashioned to exchange the likely hood of countenance. Resolving generosity, open planning, the capacity to tailor in the indoctrinate exchanges, readied for the provisional capacities; the generosity of maintaining the wisdom or retaining the kindred exchange in a moderate democracy.

2025 Adam Blewett ©