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Mister Spinster

Call me Mister Spinster.
In our perpetual youth,
you craft, you hone.
Tis not the time for
to be the crone.
Just as I am not
to be the spinster.
Shift the fluff for me.

I spin words,
and I remain hidden.
I am in the shadows.
This not this level,
not this time.
We shall weep also,
this true color, this light.

Like riding,
like moving with the waves.
And word and stones,
following your plot...
from Israel,
to Greece and Rome,
to the breakdown in London.

I will follow your astral trial,
judging the direction of your trail,
time like the dragon,
that swallows it's tail.
A cup of sack, to shag,
sweet queen, fluff my shag,
Your cup of kindness,
there be the shag.
In our perpetual youth,
these moments exist for all time.