In all these misty bogs, the deepest mire,
I am so unburdened at the silly sight:
Colluding tweens and teens do sum again,
Eleven sum fourteen usurp twenty five thrones,
How ever will they choose a seat?!
Surely time will tell.

Tear away from all the noise,
To deepest underbelly's dreams,
Where sound is hushed to burbled whisper,
Chatter to the waking world above.

A drop of red smears the sky,
And the blue is crushed to lavender,
The fragrance dancing at the precipice,
Constrained to sight amidst an amber flare,
The afterglow of day in rolling colours.