Grenier

Verily

your boots, Ann, but what matter
though the rose thorns' short wings
Irreprievably

over the air of the senior citizens' enclave
(the Senator is in doubt as to the exact significance

up the worn green wooded steps
my only voice seems to be in my hands but
or sunk in my neck since
how can I reach you, gone. The green
caster, guest bed laid out in must.

Sure I have won these before, just here.

Verily, the long brooding hours of life are best;
I don't believe it an instant; and they are best.

Ah, well, their backs
of torn, sweet corduroy.

from Dusk Road Games