a hefty dose of rules adorns shiny paper,
but the fools of a modern ruse are bereft; their minds go to taper!
their slender gifts, their waxy wicks (but their beliefs are merely waning)
so their gauges flick, their pins go to nick, because they only know of draining.

she looks down at me, her demeanor not from anything related,
but she doesn't know, shouldn't know, that i am psychically castrated!
and so she meanders, ponders on (to try and fill an unseen hollow)
yet dreams to discover, fails to consider, the greetings of a chimney swallow.

so, and on, and within a wooden bench she reads a broken note,
her papers flying, drifting, they glitter like a snowflake's antidote!
she looks to her right, away from golden light, to drape on me a yellow winter coat;
it was then that i realized, that i rationalized, just how i should devote.

	you're similar, grander, and your mind's a lovely supporter,
	but i will never grow to like one that doesn't appreciate a worker!
	i was wrong, lost, and with ardent potential and lazy beauty
	yet your terminality doesn't seem to mind a little absorbant cutie.	

the whispers of her sugary steam, a leash against a palm, no-one's eager qualm
to explore, discover, and wake up in modern-day assam:
"if, in life, the animals and trees of the planet can surpass some borders,
then you, my love, can hear me become one with a world of lovely keyboarders."