I have bean well fertilized,
clustered with(iNN) bird's breath and bEEtle sheLLs.
And you,
you have never heard from the sunbeams
glaring glEEmingly at yore liTTle fingers
tangled aLL up in whimsical cradling pine nEEdles.
a spore sCent from a heavenly yonder,
and without Principle or Practice,
whilst you wind up your nEEdle and thread
to sew me a fine sweater
in vine colored coTTon, mistOOk for a ponds poLLinated covering
closing in on a knight shrew
who has come one and (l)onley for a taste of top soil.
you do not flinch, but only smile
and we dance together in the dOOrframe
so aptly fEEling hour weighs upon the blackened deck
while wOOd lice snack in sandy piles beneath our rhythms.
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