**** to treasure
A flight of fancy
Meaning one, and many eye's to cure
A scent of harmony, in line for a me

Still my best, comes the voice
Of insight for reason
Well to do, or made in heat's choice
The legend of cope, is one to season

Stir, stir, and prepare a biding
So salty, if let in the names of just
We fate with a wry stare, and a bit of lime
Set in our fervor, the coming sound of when we are, must

See the brides of common woes
Sitting in hope, we have more to give
Time or its threshold, the better side of owed
Meter and push, for limits we seem to lead

Give the groom's of support, the truth?
It and even more, the example of decency coy
Is but beauty, if nowhere is to be our rewards rue
Shame about the does though, destiny is so loyal...