She's a dying breed
Though
She's not dying to me
Seeith,
Me and her art unearthly
Flapping winged arms to ourn plume's to the moon,
Spiritually aware
With eachother in tune
For she is me
We art free
To cometh and goeth as we choose...
Tis just what cherubs do...
I shalt put a falcon feather in her hair
To court her mine!!!!!
In a liaison affair
For taking risk's we do dare
Yet their shalt be no ghouls, goblin's nor troll's there
To ruin ourn scene!!!


©Brandon nagley ( Lonesome poet's poetry)