Ferine ferdelance Gambol's to mine weeping;
Tallon's of reaping, taketh all goodness left from me.

Canst one seeith?
The light that speaketh inside me?
Canst anyone heareth?
Mine galvano scream's?

Tis,
Regular's twas I whom was not meant for,
For the store hath a stock of regulars;

Yet none angelic being's
To host mine table......


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry