Spear my years with a nail or two
to disintegrate the partings of rust,
and with honey foretelling lacking short age,
creates a fine wealth to adjust.

The confinements of rails
seek some sort of wayward point,
breading, kneeding,
in absence of hunching mirth.

So when the 2's and 3's
speed up to fine 6's and 7's;
remind me. Remind me to
seed kind water and properly place them.