Remembering beauty
Still on the tipping point; the thrill of tripping still
embroiled on ticking platters; a time for closed doors and swept floors
thinking ill of the same matters; I posed as a man of toil and will
I would give a welcome; live on my income if I could
but manage from what I come by; stuck on a shirt with stripes
reserved for me and my likes; the three strikes of coil and pill