Prune

By Phil Rosie Gioldasis
Lamentation of booming murmurs of falls outcry.
Down outskirts of to a mourning monday fuss.
A pledge of woe!O dear too bad christmas gone.
Decorations while hands a dove in grasp anew.
To opens ones eyes grasp to see it gone air.
A headpeace an ornament of shame color display.
Free vitality thought witty a radar kindness.
Trusworthy loyal devoted and around ones ears.
Is that you standing like a musical lamentation.
Of virtue and much love aspiring to heavens gate.
Hoping words an songs of prosperity bed of roses.
Finding you singing along on the fruitfull vine.
So that charm and direction to prune us north.
And remove us from this will of inalienable.
Like that of the solidarities group before.
For journey endureth forever an split not