Song Cry Poem by Louis Borgo

A song of a blind bird,
stale and cry.
hymn of a song in hormony to fly by,
is sure to set feet.

Note by dexter fold arms to sheeps,
foil and cope,
with the mild do throttles to thirst,
seminary.

like symantec of dirtection,
as the heaven snips to the moon rites of memories,
learning time motion of tears,
my heart flirts with literature,
like hope to a good well.

note of notice,
just luck of verbal communication,
to conscience of intelligence of just words,
and tone turn to lust,
and lust turn to light moods,
where did i leave my capitavite?
in this room.

like a flower to dawn,
we rise together,
morning to sweep of shore,
like a pastor store in barrels,
for the fruit of yesterday to pour,
for todays taste,
of years to past,
of course it was a good year.

like tinkle bell to a warm berry,
my wish is sit next to you.
to reach is to bring towards,
to be patient is to remain of stone.

i'm pasting my self with this meal.
to bring friendship to a new conclusion.
will you sit eat with me and bring in the New Year.
or will be know as our anniversary a reason to write.
I mean a reason to continue to write was left to be written! ! !