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To My Chagrin
Contributed by
screwge
on
Thursday, 19th June 2008 @ 04:51:35 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
When comes a wince Upon your wind-swept face, I say wait; Ive yet to evince The contents of my briefest case.
Arrives a glacial cringe Upon your summer skin, Simultaneity inherits a pink tinge, Cheats me of where Ive not yet been.
Do you walk blazing coals And still manage the midst of your peers? And hobble to the nearest home of shoals Because the fire still sears?
When you grapple with a squint Upon the features finessed with clay, I blush because Ive yet to hint The matter of my embrace left in the gray.
Well, the wind upbraids You for your shyness, But only when you do not duck parades - Your still often flighty Highness.
There is a dowry I owe That fails to flicker at dusk, Caught in a tortuous undertow - Whirling a shell-tusk.
And I often coax A drowsy clam to produce a pearl, Yet he would not lavish simple blokes; He only appeased the Earl.
Copyright ©
screwge
... [
2008-06-19 04:51:35] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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