Where love burgeons urgents the listening asp;
A holding branch snapped
My life’s blister exuded glistening sap.
Crocus grew whereat
She lotus sat at cockrow.
Later, in a plaintive solar, a smashed urn sat like Saturn’s molars
Having eaten a stone; behold, his last and best son is stolen.
We focus that
Which holds to a vantage one could not fail to notice
A picture of a sickly lavish happiness.
Alchemisland 
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