Do not finish
let me lavish
until this wish;
myself'll polish
if you must stop
I'll sing and hop
and end in a flop
plummet from atop
it's the sound
heard from ground
you and I pound
what they found
why do I sob
if you must rob
my heart'll gob
my sweet mob
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
