Come sit by me and tease me so,
with your outwish’d words unspoken.
That I may of their subject know,
true value of their worth an’ token:
and though perhaps,
there’s much, for minded thought to fear,
when words adumbrated veil appear.
Yet time may find its woes unfound,
in laughter’s own symphonic sound:
and sostenutos,
set to that sphere of words delight,
what shadow bears such weight of light?
For by such word, its self-succumb;
laid bare by mind’s own earnest bonum:
and desires avidity,
as now perseverant truth, so emanates
who then belies to which, it then relates.
For is not one’s joy, a true precious thing,
when self’s harmonious, word does ring:
with taction’s thought.
Mor.
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Kathy
I think I know who you are smartie :)
Ron