AloftA Poem by drtism
Some high, some low, some loud, some not, my guides above me, just aloft.
As a naive a trial, an inch a mile, still drawn to her, my stunner does pull me, though rarely soft. Each blink clearer, my gate the lighter, my ebbs tax less, now I Know, no need to guess. My guile ever quickening, my aim ever closer, I so much love this style of dress. © 2015 drtism |
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Added on February 27, 2015 Last Updated on February 27, 2015 AuthordrtismWilsonville, ORAboutI have finally woken up after thinking I was a fully functioning human for so long. I took the traditional path for a man of my sort. Lots of college and lots of supposed successes. In nine years o.. more..Writing
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