TO ME LOVE...

The roses ar nt yt blooming in dis curious winter peroid.... D snow around town beckons right and left for an atoning response which seems to linger in waiting... The threshold of the weather hits it peak every second as d breath flows and yet a lingering thought of nothing similar bt familiar... D dust nd d dusk ar pathed by a stream line of black okopods bt d silver linings in d sky adjusts to bid a lingering beauty who soon wil wade thru.... Apocalypse takes it time and d worse fear smiles wit a frown an exact opposite of wot seems to be frail and puppy... D gr8test poet of dem all sat by d stream at Katakuta bay, at nyte, to study d moments of time, d elements contained in the time stream bending d time continium in a direction too illuminating by sumfin xo magnificent and exhuberantly splendid.... Alas! A finite answer to wot dis lingerin yonda wud b, bt answers beyond comprehensions i get...nt wot bt who... Nd dats you... Wink...