Twiddling vagabond, we are bags of bones!

Ha! Some escapade you paved!
Some serenade you gave!
Linchpins of some stationary accretion!
Feral seed, sedimentary and pursing.
Quit being so instant! Quit being so constant!
'Twas a feeling of elation, of optimism!
Without absinthe, 'tis a clenching root!
But an eddying breeze will turn it around,
and rip you straight from your chagrin ground.

And exhale fascinationand inhale perspiration,
Fluvial actions- mind your reactions.
Though what a pleasant redolence you were!
A bouquet on the tongue,
a vagrant fragrance of the young.


But please know that I am grateful for all that you've done.