1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase