Just beyond the albatross
Skyloft the ghost's;
And mine woe's to dissapear
For one to be here for me, an angelic host.

She'll be a superlative dogma
Of man's fortune and fame;
Mobilizing me by her **** call
Again and again.

Cometh over here "boy"
She doth sayeth, as she doth none wrong;
Ill write all mine poems for her
And turneth them into song's.

And whilst I sing mine song's for her
She shalt savor ourn Shakespearian night;
Like two unruly children we'll becometh
Leaving this place all behind.

Being **** to ournselves
Open for all to believe;
That ourn amour' is true
As tis we'll dance on the sea's.

And whilst dancing the seaside
Losing ourn throat's;
From all the laughter we shalt haveth
Making love in front of the ghost's..




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry