"sprangle" poems
A strawberry red bale
that gratitude was dale
but her waist ran a bijou
a chestful day in May
and her thigh was derry with such a motif
that was ye trumpet from Sunnyvale tonight
where her sweet tooth went ravishingly bare
while incredible vibration she'd shareware
indeed, a variation hypnotically sound
like her chestnut roasting bonfire where
tactfully dressed in love attire
we happen to know that travel so far
with the web now our thoroughfare
and dire by dawn fit her ankle again
that entail her sprangle
though her selfie is the grandeur soon
with foetuses In her bottom.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 6:15 AM UTC
you were the mystery beneath the shadows
the dull that once was, shifted to something new
you were the tears that she would sow
knees fall on the floor, now an unfamiliar view
my feet walk in haste, if meeting would allow
change is certain, fear is left for no one to dine
gone are the days, when you let me down
colors sprangle, your face beams at mine
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC