What Is Poetry But A Wind On a Foggy Day At The City By The Bay To Remember That Thrust And Recognize The Stance

Feel the girth of the Milky Way Galaxy as it weights the beam of light traveling a stork,

the beast of such is the planets price per foot,

to shifting land the discussion of whom is a hand comes to the journal of a twisting sprite,

is it the bias that marches to assumption?

Clatter loud the drum is heating to Suns that place moons at their feast,

soup is the cosmic grind at the piece is what is a star,

the dial on mathematics rusts to the pipeline of histories Masai,

the skull is more than a virtue to where the creek met a man.

Somehow the stretch of such sound was the ear of lobe to whale that sky,

in speak the tribute to a tunnel of harboring the words to tone and sea,

ocean Blues as the waves sing to the beaches that cause our sand to be,

this is the memory of only a stone at the cobble of pyramids and Smead.

Trust sorrow and the grief will ripen your legs to walk the mile of the inch in bold,

the chisel wrote to picture a sweet and on that miser of hammer and mold the grease fashions pans,

a whipping mountain smashed the file as the valley did not leap the groan,

canyons fell to speak a rivers depth but no person heard the horses girth.

There upon the saddle rode a night of shade to shadow,

in glimpse the stream was not a tree for hollow the shape be grained the comb,

as the signal more to code said that sentence strand was theme,

the mass of cosmic realm to be gave rise to smiling planets cream.

Oh for the farrow that groove of Space it wheels to more than cause,

as this wonder is meek to earth it is the wisdom of further search,

out upon that spacial style the shield of an Einstein chimney rose the Wormhole too,

it is the fluster of tone to math that made arithmetic metrics mate,

owe spoken softly centimeter proof for is the from a faith,

there is no proving for this poet as in the tunes there is a shroom.

What shroom would mush for ice in Space there is a heat to see,

and yet dear file to finger mile the inch is but a liter read in words that silent belts to be the sort of type to beat.

That is the walk to stars and mile across the ancient fanned,

in peeks and piles the filed and miles how felt the fleets of shipped,

in depth of wow the voice in sewn no thread would string the laundry dry,

for clothes to be in astronauts are in the mend of mankind's need,

the founding fathers seek to know the understanding far below for clouds mistaken make this list,

great to sound the man to hand I love the verse and read,

may you be held to more in tend for life is but a tart!!