Base
I must create that mobile base,
pride and perversion cannot trace,
a gift of love, a solemn grace
as my progression ne'er efface!
That as I wander, words not space,
to blind disorder, said in haste
with grasping blunder, loser's pace
to put asunder in its place!
Those arrows, words, can find no brace,
But fly unfelt, while grimace face,
remains the shroud, with burnt ears maze
my own lips crowd, reserved ~ not waste!
In after thought, a kiss might taste
without forgetting to replace,
love's filling potion do embrace
recession's notion of hurt's raise!
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