Best
Rued to a fault
Simple chaste, to work its magic, lest
We become a foul step forward, but with a salt

The days grow long
Toward a resolved rainbow
Is a heathen the most, the song?
When lovers find a gait to life and soul

Many nights have passed
Mercy in a frank discussion about reasons
We make for each other, when pride has us to last
The tale of purpose extant, the coming hope of love won

Terror in a clenched fist, some by guarantee's and some to live
With the conscience of slyness afoot, but with courage
Found, in the hold of significance of a heart to give
The truth in a God given, though liberal use of its day

Twain, the sight of complexity to assure the known
We are the call of simplicity in the reach of voice
***, strength, even sincerity to fate a mind blown
With cause and comment weighed for a best's choice

Couth
In the mouth of babes, until the yawn of finesse has atone
Were and still, the common tow, of reigns that complete the youth
Of a misery with no name but the one given a moment, at home