Wandering, winnowing, wistful wildebeest,
wishing wonderful wonderments of wit,
crashes carefully, colorfully, colliding with
bounding bounties of bygone boy-scouts, whose
remains remain remnants with restful recyclables,
lacerating liquorish-lipped ladies on lithographs
whilst autumnal authors of augmented albums
propagate perplexingly preposterous pillow-talk with
yelled yelps of yellowed yesterdays and
uttering unflattering, undulating untruths at
frightened and flummoxed flighty females who,
mincing mightily, moreover, monstrously to
westward wonders of wild willows
wish warlords what they will.
No comments:
Post a Comment