Within, these glowing embers lie,
white blossom, nigh Eau de vie,
spry thy spring, bound by song…
choir’s pulsing lament, thus
each twang of thong, depart
so trussed, pounds a puss…
each lick, of zestful glee
a gush spots to rest
in gust of members
blushing spree…
Fri vers (Fri form)
av Nightngale
Publicerad 2018-10-15 19:22