Kite - An Octave of All Spondees
Go high my kite so right.
Seek thy sky flight, flow free.
Make thy way, find breeze light.
Take hold, wee prize, we see.
Tied tail needs airspace height.
Make sleek line tight, jolt me.
Please find wayout, gain space.
Show Lane they windswept grace.
Copyright © Alfred Berggren | Year Posted 2017
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