Oldd the Days

Old are they; those fables Green they seemed so idle, murrain of theirs still but stand. Odd how all of us prattle Lads indeed we still are longing hearty; throstles songs sang_we all are. Old; we wot these birds their silent screams, their feathers whim; Nwunwani ya malena oh swain to boyish manner. Odd these tricks;futile that laugh; humor felt fainly graft; lusty marks brat indistinct;two of these. Old indeed friends many, lunatics, lovers, poets; to me:days where fine the faces, the smiles; the best_my closest: my mother. Odd_history of man's fall from glory; temporal but lowly, to the swam of folks indulged in folksy fables and wind drought eagles. Old the age of time, if he were to count her down feast_lamps shone_indwelling clans; of rocks as bread and lands as fields of gold. Odd these slippers_my lullaby, the gentle embrace of firm support and fashionable hey, hello; nice shoes, intrigue in loops. Old my looney_little mate from lands only of myth, imagined places: those created films_my pixel pinky. Odd my interest in single females,of simple yarn and lowly glory that's too fragile for; lollipops_kisses and pecks like v award winds. Old these melodies of Bome_yes bome; these loving tides of beautiful countenance rose as roses at noonday;as waves at water pools. Odd these Irish boys of Ireland_ Scottish accents in American films faked acts of Hitler in short pants, Black dark doves; the purity of beauty Africa. Old yes odd these remarkable words: these watery lines_the days.