How much more focus can I keep to write
When the newness feels only so slight
A little bit hunger
And a little bit ants
Leave me this table
For next time, in France
But German the matter
A bread almost beaut
I’ll move on to quarters
Half on the boot
But onward will you go
And by you I mean me
For only so long
Can ever we we
Write me, will you?
I hope so, yes please
Flowers across fields
Meadows, I’ll sneeze
Shower the foundry
We’ve woven the quilt
Timing matters not
Nor even the silt
For rivers will wind
And ford them, will will
Lakes in between
And air, air, air
Feet cannot fail
For I cannot let
Ownership never
Nothing to get
Roman Ryan 