Stately, kindly, lordly friend, Condescend Here to sit by me, and turn Glorious eyes that smile and burn, Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, On the golden page I read.
My rhyme ain't good just yet,/
My brain and tongue just met,/
And they ain't friends, so far,/
My words don't travel far,/
They tangle in my hair,/
And tend to go nowhere,/
They grow right back inside,/
Right past my brain and eyes. (Regina: Consequence of Sounds)
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