.
.
Surely none, as yet unread
have birthed such words more sweet.
Than those in match with honey’s taste
upon this paper sheet.
Who authors such to pale the bloom
of crimson rose in season?
Who dares to lift my mortal feet
on gusts of rhyming reason?
Do not these words bare fragrance wild,
intoxicating senses?
Do not these words invade the gates
that form my heart’s defenses?
So purely smooth as silk on loom
entwines with angel hair,
doth speak the voice of tender thought
and beauty’s soul laid bare.
Whose name shall scribe this written page
to pour my praise upon?
By chance it seems a twisted waste,
it bares the mark ANON
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Really? I bet it is an antique dictionary of words most beauteous? That would account for your writing. Now come to front of the class to show and tell everyone about your dictionary Alby. Good girl. 











54 old applause
