"Sound"
Helium and platinum scream.
Like a thick shaving cream.
It is what it may seem.
A reality's fantasia.
Said what they will say.
Waiting for the new day.
In lights' nights.
Orange moon's and true Junes.
All the singing tunes.
You have sung.
With a golden lung.
Totally left undone.
Unsung on your melodies', ringing, tongue.
By Jonathan Billet-03/29/015
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