Difficult it becomes, the secret of
the judgement and metamorphosis of
the painted cotton into a stained truth.
To save the present tense. A dangerous
crowd of vowels to express the incomplete
moment of watery teeth,
so hung, while misspeaking painfully
in dyslexic manneo. I would not
understand the hour-glass proxy.
An undersized leash to walk
with a giant: the magnitude of tragedy
overwhelms the path!
Satish Verma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-s-toast/
