Orlando de Rudder strikes again...

with his pwhaizies :

Eyefull’s souvenir!

So we’ll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Thought the heart be still as loving

And the moon be still as bright.

Lord Byron

So my eyes became the sheath of your succulent shape. So late…

Corn and wheat, rye and oats: And the field were throwing their square glances at the  sky. Very late.

And my eyes remain the womb of a mere remembrance. No birth.  Never

Corn and wheat, rye and oats: And the trees were rummaging the crude and thick night. Too late.

And my eyes look at you through  long gone past: I don’t need no eyelids  close this   jail of love. Ago.

Corn and wheat, rye and oats: There is no catapult to shoot my eyes away.

I can’t forget your too much yummy shape!

Corn and wheat, rye and oats: Even if I were blind, I’d see you anyway. Forever.

I see you anyway with no magic recipe to forget you. Sometimes.

Corn and wheat, rye and oats : I’ll never get  oblivion tricks!And so remains my choice: Gallic shrug or despair: Everyday!

par Orlando de Rudder