Shomrim of your slumbering form
Our seomra close set
Stars like stuck confetti
Smoke as from the tophet grate swirls like incense about Aaron’s censer
Shogun of the low hedged garden
Warden of the retarded.
Sun sheds in Schönbrunn yellow
A mellow undercoat, as under custard
You have lost no lustre
My love not lost but flustered
If words are wind all love is bluster
When it’s time to talk sweet I’m quiet as Buster.
Alchemisland 
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