Black Robed the Bench and Power

Huddled poor the masses, did you say, not I. Whirlpools hide the dragon and it's eye. Needles would I thread upon one point. Before the Gavel falls, I'd hear your allocution. While one was never made, ambition grew. Each priest before his god, one never stood. Here a rose and there it's bud, yet beauty paused. Lillie's look caused her to Donn a rustic mask. James McLain Wednesday, October 28, 2009