It is a tale of rambunctious probes the vicinity with hers
a history we divulge in passing,
with notions of respect
and a passion for science and jouranlism not blushing is a form of hearing.
The reasons for my respect are entertained in my nose of silicon.
A sordid map day
only bridge, just the necklace,
nothing but it. Shades of silvery.
And a misunderstood acrobat's ice will rise you.
Fewer and fewer
pity about another mode of sincerity.
You are the apple of my exiled tail.
Pockets of rusted nail converted into paper-mache.
From her lip and her brow imbue
yellow cars of the earth.
What changes the props of pride?
As soon as the incoming banners
gives the overtone indication.
Thanks for Reading
All Images from Pixabay
Poem Written by me
