Poetic Justice: "gOLDen"
Legs stretch down these cool streaks of gold
on these cold streets. If only, There was such a name for a gem, again as they’ve said. These lanes were made for dancing. Started laughing,
Indulging in the dawn of passion, passing fractions of facial interaction and
shoved it out of passing. Arms of a jungle beast,
mouth of a sailor
stares of a neighbor Devil in a dress or a tux, all favored and
also well tailored. These streets were made for dance without music,
useless intrusions and space one could move in. To bow and pray on each prey, and kiss the new day.
This area is for those who could tie their own shoes and find their own food. For the sake of today.