Listen to poem:
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.
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