That broad beam that besets the eye
And casts its shadow cross the soul
Finds favor with the fashioned lie
That I am Master of the whole.
The dire eclipsed by moment pleasures
Poised to pit us against given grief
And steal away our tallied treasures
In place we find a welcomed thief.
2 comments:
It is special.
ha ha ha. Brilliantly put Mam, I wonder where were you all this while. This pits you against Austin Powers. :-))
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