wild Irish rose

By
i was wondering if tomorrow
it'll be heard in my sky's soul
some acute echoes
in your spoken language,
attired in some incantations
with proper inklings, while
are ingesting tasty frissons,
just to lean the fog in spam,
sufficiently to can be seen
my spectrum's chromaticities
in the smoky apparition
of your black-golden beam,
wrapped in the suave scent
of a wild Irish rose, fed by me…

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