Own
Heavens doth tell anything but praise!
for an early yet late phase;
blessed are all you wary,
for an angel is not yet fairy;
doth forget what one must marry.
Colorful pebbles made by marbles,
folds ones precious stone;
to honor and cuddle what once was own,
with plants of vine scattered by moan
of silk yet divine wails of dawn,
hasten for thy roots to pone
and brought back what once was lown.
Date : 09/23/2016
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