quince.
"whittle thy phraseology, alfred."
if ekphrastic nuggetry,
then the natural hide
(once brought close) dements my foredrawn
lackadaisy.
are you interpretive of dance and do you
drive a pearl Miata?
she "brove" the starkeep with her sparkling,
all fence aside.
the lambent playthings drew to close shave
all the proxy votive shambles
we brought low to chide.
my aunt is never ill she merely fails to sleep.
I think it's time now for a fitting (full stop).
and when the water table's down, there may be
pictographic innocence to mark
this bright convivial sort of a daydream
sparse although quite
sharable.
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