Though standing behind the picture books, I saw you that October night with a ghoulish moon, a glimpse of who as the glass doors opened of a voluptuous figure passing through? The snippet of an online photo couldn't say. Like a scratched-off lottery ticket, the wasted unmatching don't pay. Where did my rising hope dock from? Or you, another narcotic chemistry? The awkward moment wafted away when the lips fit a stellar time your eyes outshone the need for deducing setting an old salt sailor at ease to tease.
It’s Easy, Or It’s Not