Compose another, early bird
If we entertain a mercy's thought
Acting with life, inching closer to charisma's heard
Letting the miracle of it's specialness, have all for image and not

Imagine the count, of repose
Silly old me, the tact of decision
The mores of propriety, a worldly hour to lose
The notion of a distance to a problem, that has no equality for intuition

Sweet old honey, ready to introduce a different plan
The taken moment's, to the siring of another keep
Worth one more step than we thought, the integrity we and
And the coming heart of deliverance, with it to seek

Like childhood, no even adult sophistication
Has the hurried brow of composure, a milk to memories
That complete the tender hope of angel's and their intimation
Whether a toll of embarrassment or the erudite youth of consideration, we see...