She holds me closer than she should in public
Always with the hands
That flap and wait in silence for
Her prior arranged attack
For it is about the one who wins
And the one who doesn’t gets all
The rate of file and war. If
It is about the when and the where then
It is about the wood and the fire of the
Sought to be the higher than the wrought-iron
Killer called the file.
Sife held before us a
Whole new one or two to be decided at the vote
Where to send the fleet of iron-man transleets who all
See a better one than you did here. Who all
Get their way.
If it is not file it is fire, then all
Shall be they who make a real one and two, not a vanquished
Find called a reet gwin or gwenifin which are the
One’s who do and don’t. Not the ones who woo and won’t.
Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders