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Sky Too Green

Sky so green
Grass too blue
What I may tell you
May not be too necessarily true
Poets often wrinkle
And scurry over the rhyme
So sue me tangential
Versification has never been a capital crime
Riddle me plastic
Cauterize those peeps of joy
Life tarries aslantlike
I hope they have a baby boy
Roses be red
For her with eyes so too blue
Oh, another butterfly release—
Could you free me one day too?

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The Queen’s Annual High Tea

Sally Gossamer Wingstep Met Marcus V. Featherstone
Attending the Queen’s Annual High Tea
The danced and talked and walked together
In the warm manner of increasing complementarity
A touch of highlight crimson rose
Colouring the tips of Sally’s forewings
Soon she found she had forgotten
To share the gist of many amazing things
Marcus managed to hide his stammer
Girls! Curiously an ever-haunting mystery
Together they had soon discovered
A sharing in fairiekynd’s land and winged history
The Queen rose, oh so soon!
The High Tea was now at its end
Sally and Marcus bade the other their adieus
Dwelling in the warmth that such a meeting did attend
Oh yes, sleep would elude them
A shared dream now a waking reality
But where to end this little story
Of a love lacking in any signs of finality
Would you grant this poet reprieve for this his crime:
Who makes his adieu abandoning you with there’ll be more in time?