We sit right here with bells atop and stare
at the whole intriguing process – it’s his peculiar progress don’tcha know
one and Only one poem per time to find any such way…
To hell with this Ann & Barry-esque rhyme – the mind shall and Can handle it all at besotting will
peel your camera-shy eyes wiiide
To make it up as he creates
to caress your bashful soul back upon that favourite Reading Chair of yours
Fiercely settled fair cosily beneath a book still-equipped
alarmingly so
These eyes of only ever honestly his – pressed against to tempt to stare
you loaned them to him
He realised a safe while ago this utterly insatiable need to make words flow – quite akin to… Yes, we guessed it, like nothing else we’ve ever seen
fair to admit, he’s been tapestrying to set himself onto Full Stop crazy wordlore
There is simply stored, and then there just had to have been this
and, to think, that all he ever really needed was One… just one fucking bewilderingly fire-flamed poem to make a serious difference
To scintillate
to gust-of-wind this taste between these keen, whisperingly soft lips
This was supposed to be easy wasn’t it…
And even if he never ever truly gets to see It We sure as shit do