Savour the branches that wave in the storm and then
waver not unless the world has derailed you, but churn on
the love and the thrill of pure living, so here is the dance
and the chance of a lifeline, the girl has walked on and the
cloud has poured over, the sky doesn’t know you’re a
friend of the churning; let’s warble a song I composed on
the wrinkles that stain every sky and then smile for
redemption. The poet has spoken; we don’t have a choice!
365