Huff wags its tale of yawn to come puff the soft depth matt
On sheer breeze wit, I get the view of grant sight,
a golden sigh call of the day.
a golden sigh call of the day.
If not the hug of 4am’s, it’s the slap of 7am rates of ray
Wind cast wills, sweat of wheels tampering the magical sense of wet do we’s
Upon doings is the engine of wander,
eyes cloaked, vowed browse,
In purple pinky sense,
sights flown of promises,
on specs, it paves on point frequency.
Deinty raised currency, I sow lines of pages,
brewing wildest intents for sees seeds.
Yeah, that pen-wee-wand.
Swollen in haze, I turned the daze of siren oasis,
rebelled against the gravity of found labels
Widow upon site of sights, nailed upon signs of D’s
of this ever written not-so-mazed wit of wigs.
Ah! Such a tale to venture a rose vent in.
If I am to ask this person in fore, I’ll front a frown of “How’s your bees?”
My deep round deed would be “Its on my crown deinty”
Hmm, where? *wink, here.
Sure peer. You brewed the waves if you bead the joint of this thorned riddle.
Just kidding! Oh! 9PM’s teaser would be a locked ball of blankies,
a big huggy snuggly deer highs.
Happy to wrote H E L L O L A L A L A N D on jotty nosey notiee
It’s a fleek of deed of dreams for this day.
Me? Don’t mind, I’m a swoopy snoopy sleepy weeee.
Now walk, gracefully unbothered, weeee
weeee
A passage from Voice 4: Of change
© 2022 Deinty Woodtales