Dream a little nothing
To seethe oats
From distant pleasure
Their empty leisure
Crowns the kindred
Goddess treasure
Money driven
Coins of rust
And rotten scale
Cannot beguile
The standard field
That turnips taste
Absent flavor
In a stubborn paste
That swirls
Like milk
In a left hand
Sink that drains
Australian style
Down under
Counter clockwise
Love is priceless
© GÄ
Poétique 