The east is little more thanthe love of the city, a bit toward.Forward. Is there a better forest?
The trees sense their reflections. Glitter-bits on the lake surface.
I grace the stucco with sophistication. I am that abstract.
Look elsewhere. Allocateand assign the how. Give itup. Make the loan. Can my family fit intobeauty? Our failed attempts aren't unique. They rot.
The way of things.
What is the sum of 8 and 9:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.