segunda-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2018

Eighteen was a dash

Hopes and dreams have led us here
whirls and drills have pearled your dreary
Your forehead up on fire under your hair
New beginning nod nearby
\
Maybe the fruits of your sweat are fattening
Tumbling down a christmas present toward you
Horrid comments and excuses slow release lose

Yet no loss and melting frosts south east sun bruises
No costs and freedom sweeps sweet swanky dreams
under the fan air cooling tropical milky steam
Faith- your hand, your juice, your leaf!
/
Damp dries off effort, hardens
enough mirth for my vanguard, enough fert for my garden

Struggle now solidified into gold nuggets
The path mostly smooth, though a tad rugged
A beauiful nod by our northern angel head
A huge stash of slow release win

Thankful

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