Stowed

Appeasing to the amber crutch, I found myself saluting the glass with a Posture so queasing. Feelings so nostalgic that emptiness Rubbernecks; light of dusk; a child with Picturesque must. Maturity slaps me without change And, this significance of a person conjures Orderlychaos. Her passion tickles the sclera of my conscience Specked by sweetness. Sweetness to contrast my apple pie of pain, Stowed away in our banana boat across the toffied hazel sea. I see. Somewhere i knew there was nostrum forinutile eyes, And, to my surprise, she sanctifies.