Look it's there, posing haar,
quite lofty an fair, nerve taking air;
hushed breeze only by you;
how wonderful thou care.
To spin an fin in vines bin,
an let thy heart pulse in hin;
To speak an write an start a fight
chug upon what puzzle i am in,
an flurr like air to fins mine gold;
from about to finish and hold
skips away from my bold air
how lucky a-holic air
i fear of e're.
Categories:
flurr, addiction,
Form: Elegy