The Gnomes On the Lawn At Cambridge Arms

Life's passions all absorbed on green grasses as the innocent treasures tamed and measured accordingly we shy away the aftermath of past stoned bridges enhance the connection point while the cold calmness unwind the myths for our must we define a place hidden where as the teak wood stained with old disagreements left unsaid and so morbidly left undone as we hinder to blades of shame while the light in the chambers of this excellent brownstone manner as the banner swing my own practice in my own time as this is my space a place where inside looking out speaks to the gnomes on the lawns why the rain leaks the lost pebbles from pass over showers distinctively poured like clock work and yet the client approaches the foyer the beginning of a sit down as the Lincoln doors are doing an open and shut dance for the laws in the land as I charm the gnomes at Cambridge arms