Tranquillity in the woven distress~ White
Of the skies too white, spreading all across.
Terribly, as the light spreads, the colours would all fade.
Would it suffice the need for a dainty loss.
For the lilies nurturing right into my soul
While the oodles of daisies feel miles apart
From the part where I would find distress,
Wisteria’s fallen, at no time the misery would depart.
For the swans fluttering solely within.
Eskimo, I would ask to return the favour to obsess.
The Persian moustache, would uphold my imagination.