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


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