Frill

A frill on the fringe Edging closer to flounce called life, Not so much for the bounce Nor cutting it with a knife. I'd rather sashay through it Quaffing it in a gulp, Don't wait for a pulp, Nor boutonniere of this verse, Open it like your precious purse, And then, with it you go, And then, with it you flow. An Opus to be made for us With not much of doubt or any fuss, Sprinkle salacity that is pure Cultured and streamed down on us like a cure. Let it be puissant As it is in fact short lived, So sui generis and never retrieved.