... a much for we ...

She has no flaw, that her, she put upon
a plinth, be polish once a day. This none
a wishful doze of I, for I concern
to share and hear, a crusty cheer, a yearn
of we're, the 'uns their gear, I'm slowing dear,
the compromise of kith as someones real.
The daily fem has rough ascribe the heart;
unsanded personality, no dark
of past, comprehending null, a scour.
Since every her is real, the one to flower
is she of fault by skin or eye: such fleck,
like packaging, is simple to respect;
which leave the only damn to bar the see
as mine, a manitude, a much for we.

poem

2K0:2

site
copyright

set Hear





this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978-2020 dylan harris