Prefractures of a fracturing sparkle...
Predentures of a faltering nature.
Holy phone calls to one who cares...
Blinding undeciveness from one who stares.
Me lady who wants total unwavering care...
Why are ye there, here or bare?
I walk to the tent of nine...
I stalk to the side of thine.
Belittlest little of little wee sons...
Re dribble re griddle to those heaviest of tons.
Loiter my goider to some that lumpeth...
Beseech to thee that alite to the bumpeth.
Fur to thee the wandering few...
Help for me that does not due.
Bicuspid breakers of a brake unchecked...
Beyond my takers from someone pecked.
Keys are but one of the things of life...
No longer mistaken for they of strife.
Beget to forget to set them free...
Regret to forget to dejet and flee.
Flight may take on an appearance of all gone long...
For nothing of naught so sought thy song.
Michael Gale
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-nothing-of-naught-so-sought-thy-song/
