My gyrating craves. Your repartee.
The structure, the wit, the jest
The uncommon, unconventional fondness
I celebrate invariably
They dose me a drug
That deaden the woes.
My arising fancy. Your presence.
The candid face, the illumine eyes
Which give solace to the senses
And sink them in lethargy
I yearn for the fancy to turn feasible
Hitherto! The soul departs the form.
Yet! Of another end
I am distinctly certain
Those cravings and fancy
Enjoy transcendentalism
Towering on the spiritual faculty
Regardless of being bestowed to eyes.
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