I also write crappy poems in my spare time.
Tempo
A patchy sod with grass and wild floret Blue current spirals merging rocks and sand White smokes and droplets dawn the valleyed land Three puffs to lace the hazy mind forget Cartwheel through time rolls back the wood roulette Sweet martingale each step we take is grand Through canyoned hills we surf yet where we strand In shrouded waves we rest with teared duvet Between the steep ravine swirls gleamy stream Convening streams the withered fish shall spring ...