A Sliding Slice of Precious Peace

Gimme a break, Drake In the space I own In May, June or July to rake In tonnes of peace without the groan That serves no useful purpose In the scheme of strategies I adopt To rid my life of the toxic venom from the hind legs of your platypus In circumstances and settings you co-opt Cruising without aim into a dead end From which I stray to preserve the serenity I earn in peace urns that mend Fuses, plugs and valves in the sovereignty In which I fly aloft The rocket propelling me to Venus Where in tandem with Hermes and Cupid I climb aboard the loft Where love once lived in pomp and splendor until fuss Turned the tables Crushing hopes I nurtured In my thoughts, feelings and plans sauntering on gables I thought you and I cultured With a view to consolidating pre-nuptial plans We’d painstakingly built In the absence of adversity guns That vowed we’d never fight the good battle to the hilt.