Yon light from the Gods
as we in the beat.
A
pulse made craven.
Low light and appearance
walking on air.
Find
a bard and you give over.
You're that change all
stricture love.
Her
figure timeless.
It
come to a head.
The
rain drag the window.
Leave
to me sentiment.
The
skies are such color.
Pure
exotic of a mind.
She damsel in straits
assume is any moment.
Whatever tread she is excited.
She
craven as I.
All
the muster from youth.
Presume
you same.
I’m which you’re entitle.
Your familiar what end?
G©
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