Once wide, the slopes began to lap
Inwards a bunch of years ago;
So that that sidereal pair
That dances and dances so well
The ur-self and the fancy-girl
Underwent passes.
And for the rest it is substance
That overtook her hazy hair
Made it infested and frayed down.
But my night’s lady’s still of night,
For all she steps in faytour’s mould,
And has seen through my softliness.
She was my handmaid and she knows
None better, how to sneer.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment